Trust and Protection: Discovery
by fishiexy
Summary: Peter and Neal embark upon a physical relationship but Neal’s uncharacteristic and disturbing behaviour causes Peter to become increasingly worried. Could it just be another one of Neal’s games or is something from his past coming back to haunt him?
1. slash and trigger warnings

Trust and Protection: Discovery

This series of fan-fiction has been rated 'M' for mature audiences.

It contains references to non-consensual M/M sexual abuse/assault and rape plus describes the symptoms and signs of panic attacks/PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder).

It also portrays a slash relationship between two adult consenting males.

If the first idea upsets you or the second idea offends you, please do not read any further.

The stories also contain descriptions in varying details of masturbation, oral and anal sex.

There's some violence and swearing somewhere in there too, so once again…

If any of the above offends, upsets, triggers or squicks you…

Please do not access any of the other chapters of this story.

The decision to proceed is now up to you.

You have been warned.


	2. Neal

Trust and Protection: Discovery

Chapter one: Neal

God! He was so close…Neal moved his left hand from where it had been toying with his nipples, down between his legs to cup his balls. He drew his heels up closer to his body allowing his knees to flop even further apart giving him more room to provide that extra little bit of stimulation he required to reach the point of release he so desperately needed.

He stroked and pulled at his sac, lifting it up, palming himself, rolling and squeezing his balls while his other hand fairly flew over his erection; fingers and foreskin, rubbing and slipping over the sensitive head of his cock.

'Oh yeah, so good…' He moaned breathlessly.

Another small spurt of pre-come leaked from the tip of his penis only adding to his heightened sense of anticipation and arousal before he felt his groin and perineum tightening signalling the imminent onset of orgasm.

'Oh God! I'm gonna come! Peter… I'm gonna come…' He cried out to his imaginary lover, his voice high-pitched and broken.

He gave his cock one final twist between thumb and fore-finger before his balls contracted, his penis spasmed and he started to ejaculate. He shot first onto his chest and then onto his smooth, flat abdomen and then he jerked out yet more over his groin. His climax seemed to go on for ages; his back arching, body writhing, his penis twitching and dribbling come.

He continued to pull at his balls while his toes curled and his knees flexed as he gently milked the last vestiges of orgasm from his now softening prick. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut, tears slowly leaking out from the corners and his breathing came in short, sharp bursts as the long awaited, desperately hoped for, mind-blowing feeling of completion finally returned, overwhelming him.

At last he was spent and exhausted, he collapsed back on the bed, naked and sticky with a subtle pink, post orgasmic blush across his face and chest. There were small puddles of semen dotted over his body from where he had just come so spectacularly and his semi-flaccid penis now lolled across his pelvis in a pool of its own fluids. He lay motionless, bathed in a light sheen of sweat as his breathing and heart rate slowly returned to normal.

He kept his eyes shut, his lashes clumped together by drying tears as he finally allowed himself to admit how scared and worried he had been these past months, wondering if he was ever going to be normal again or whether he was just too damaged, too broken after his time in prison to be able to experience desire and arousal because how could anyone love him or want to be with him when he couldn't satisfy them, when he couldn't have sex, when he couldn't even get it up on his own?

Since it had happened, he hadn't been able to achieve a single erection, hadn't been able to get even the slightest bit hard let alone anywhere near coming and that was almost a year ago. But it was only in the last few months that he had begun to grow increasingly anxious about his performance in the bedroom or rather lack thereof, maybe because now he finally felt settled enough in his new life as a consultant for the FBI to actually think about the possibility of starting a relationship with someone.

In the immediate aftermath of the incident when they had finished with him, when they had discarded him like a used and broken toy and he lay abandoned on the cold concrete floor, his body battered and bruised, bloody and torn, all he could think of was getting back to his cell where he would be alone, invisible and safe. He didn't know how he managed to get back there, he only remembered crawling into his cot and pulling a blanket over himself, where he curled up into a ball, wrapped his arms tightly round knees and tried to sleep but only got as far as shivering and sobbing in fear, self-pity and shame.

The first few days were spent in a haze of pain due to being so sore and stiff that even getting out of bed took his breath away let alone hobbling around the prison and sitting down at mealtimes. He also existed in a shell-shocked state of denial associated with traumatic memory loss due to a self-preservation strategy that his mind had subconsciously adopted to prevent the psychological damage he'd sustained from overwhelming him.

Over the next two weeks he slowly began to heal until one day he wasn't looking where he was going and he felt his back being slammed into a wall, a large callused hand holding him up by the neck and there in front of him was the leering face of one of his tormentors, but he couldn't do or say anything because those thick fingers were digging into his neck, squeezing his wind-pipe and cutting off his air supply. He could feel his eyes bugging out, feel his heart pounding, feel the panic surging up and engulfing him…

He was rescued by one of the prison guards who saw the whole thing and was escorted back to his cell where he promptly fell to his knees and emptied the entire contents of his stomach all over the floor then spent the rest of the day curled up on his cot in the fetal position, shivering uncontrollably. That was the day he made the decision that he was going to escape. It was also the day that the nightmares started…

He would wake up with his heart pounding, arms flailing, drenched in sweat and with the awful sensation that he was suffocating; his breathing rate would speed up until he was almost panting with the effort of trying to get more air into his lungs. But it wasn't enough; it was never enough. By that time his fingers and lips were numb then he would be clawing at the collar of his shirt trying to get rid of the increasing tightness in his chest because he was sure he was having a heart attack.

The first few times that it had happened he had been so scared that he continued to hyperventilate until he passed out and would wake up on the floor sometime later, disoriented with a sense of foreboding and unease which made any further sleep that night impossible and the next morning he would find bruises on his face where he had smacked his head on the way down.

Gradually he learned how to control his breathing so that he didn't lose consciousness but once he had calmed down enough so that he was no longer in danger of fainting, he would then feel the urge to vomit and after puking his guts up, the shakes would start often continuing for hours, making him feel helpless and hopeless, desperate and vulnerable and then the tears would well up and he would swipe at them angrily because he knew he was weak and pathetic yet he just couldn't seem to stop crying leaving him drained and emotionally wrecked.

The next three months were spent living in fear, checking every corner, every corridor, every small recess for lurking bodies, people hiding in shadows waiting to jump out at him, waiting to grab him, restrain him and hurt him. He knew the guards were watching him, keeping an extra eye on him but they couldn't be everywhere, all hours of the day and night and he knew it was just a matter of time before it happened again. The only thing that kept him sane during that time was planning every intricate little detail of his escape; taking the warden's credit card, getting access to a computer to order his guard's uniform, stealing scissors, a razor and plastic bags to keep them all in; because organizing and planning for every eventuality gave him the feeling of having control over something in his life once more and being in control had always been very important to Neal; that and Kate.

But even when he got out prison for the second time, when Peter took him up on his offer, when he had a job and a place to live and the prospect of finding Kate he still hadn't had an erection and for the first few weeks of working for the FBI he didn't even notice that was the case.

But after a while when things settled down at work, when he wasn't so scared that if he didn't do as Peter said, if he wasn't able to complete his assignment, if he offended Hughes or Jones or Cruz, that he would be back in prison, this time for good, he finally started to realize that something was missing in his life. He couldn't really put his finger on what was wrong until one day in the shower when he was soaping himself he became conscious of the fact that doing this in the past had always elicited an enjoyable sensation which inevitably led to a very predictable reaction followed by an even more enjoyable conclusion…

It was then that he realized he hadn't achieved an erection, hadn't woken up with morning wood, hadn't got a hard-on in work, hadn't tried to touch himself, hadn't even thought about sex since… _No!_ For several months at least. Maybe now that things seemed to be getting a little easier with Peter and he was feeling more relaxed at work, more secure with his place in the grand scheme of things he should try to spark up a bit of action in the self-love department! He got out of the shower and after towelling himself dry, settled down on the bed, his heart speeding up in anticipation of what he was about to do.

He started off by touching his nipples, squeezing and rolling them into hard little nubs, then ran his hand down over his belly to softly stroke his cock, teasing himself by moving straight onto his balls, cupping them, gently tugging at his sac before moving back to his cock again. He gripped his foreskin between his thumb and middle finger and slowly eased it back over his glans. He repeated the movement a few times, adding a finger sweep over the slit at the tip of him but there was no moisture there to smooth the way, no beads of pre-come welling up to provide lubrication as there normally was; it was dry and scratchy and his cock felt overly-sensitive and a little uncomfortable.

He made a fist and took a firmer grip on his dick, speeding up his movements. He consciously willed himself to relax and imagined Kate stripping in front of him, straddling him, leaning forward, her breasts swaying as she bent to kiss him… He continued trying to jack himself off, continued twisting and tugging on his cock, pulling at and squeezing his balls, but no matter what he did or who he fantasized about or how he touched himself his penis steadfastly remained limp and lifeless. He let go of the flaccid, useless and now rather sore appendage and collapsed back on the bed in frustration and despair.

He kept trying over the next few weeks, imagining different people from his past or that he'd met in the course of his work doing more and more unspeakably filthy things to him, then he started doing it in different places, like the shower with scented body wash to provide lubrication or on the couch when he was relaxed after a nice glass of wine or in the restrooms at work thinking that the time limit might motivate him and help; he even tried it sitting behind Peter's desk and although the last one was rather exciting what with the risk of being caught with his hand down his pants it still didn't provide any sort of physical response at all.

The next step on the list was internet porn, starting with straight vanilla; missionary, doggie style then up against a wall; but it did nothing for him. He then tried one with a lesbian twist; a nice sixty-nine followed by a strap-on; still nothing. Finally he moved onto the gay stuff; a young guy with an older man giving each other mutual hand-jobs, the young guy on his knees blowing his partner who then came all over the first guy's face, the older guy thrusting in and out of the young man's ass, fingers digging deeply into his hips, balls slapping wetly against his skin… Neal didn't see any more of that video as he was running towards the bathroom where his stomach violently ejected the remains of the lovely dinner that Peter had just bought him and to add insult to injury, his penis was still soft and small.

The next night he tried sex toys; a cock ring, a testicle cuff, nipple clamps and a vibrator. He used the latter device by applying it lightly over the surface of his cock and balls and when that failed to stimulate him he hesitantly moved it backwards in the faint hope that maybe anal stimulation would paradoxically be the thing that finally made him respond. After all, he had always enjoyed it in the past; that little stretch and feeling of fullness as he fucked himself with a finger or two while he played with his cock using his other hand. But this time, just touching the area around his hole with the vibrator let alone getting it up inside him caused a horrific series of flashbacks which made him vomit yet again then left him gasping, shaking and sobbing on the bathroom floor.

Neal gave up after that. And he didn't miss it, not really. In fact he didn't even think about it at all; sex or the fact he wasn't able to perform. The former because that part of his life seemed dead to him now; his penis was just a soft little lump attached to the front of him that inconveniently dangled between his legs and spoiled the smooth outline of his tailored pants and in fact he was glad that it no longer distracted him from concentrating on the job in hand rather than being the job in hand which then demanded all of his attention; and the latter because if he thought about that he would realize just how scared and worried he was that this state of affairs was going to be a permanent one for him and that he would never be able to have sex again. So he put it out of his mind and carried on at work as if nothing was wrong with him at all.

Then after a few more months he started noticing that Peter seemed more relaxed around him, that he wasn't threatening him with prison almost every day and that it appeared as if he trusted him and sometimes actually liked him. Things at work became much more pleasant because now Peter stood up for him and included him in discussions and asked his opinion in front of others and would allow him to stop for coffee and then take him out for lunch and occasionally took him home to have dinner that Elizabeth had cooked.

And so he started watching Peter and noticing all the little things about him like the way he fiddled with his pen when he was thinking and tapped it on his blotter when he was annoyed or how he stretched his back and neck in his chair, groaning as the joints popped when he had been doing paperwork all day and he was tired and stiff and how he rolled his eyes when Neal had suggested something outrageous or shook his head in disbelief when Neal had just pulled off another legally dubious stunt or how proud he looked when Neal had given them the answer to yet another case despite being surrounded by Harvard graduates and the best that the FBI had to offer.

Whereas in the beginning Neal went to work anxiously wondering whether that day would be the one where Peter would set him an impossible task and he would be hauled off back to prison before having had time to plan his escape, to cut the anklet and run, now, however, Neal looked forward to going to work because that meant he got to be with Peter and he'd noticed that Peter seemed to enjoy being with him too…

Often he'd look up from where he had been reading to catch Peter staring at him, and then Peter would get flustered and pretend like he was looking for someone or something else. And when Neal was flirting with a mark in the course of an assignment, he would notice Peter frowning as though he didn't like the thought of Neal chatting with anyone else. Not to mention that Peter was forever touching him. Nothing noticeable or obvious; just a ghost of a hand on his lower back to guide him through a door, a soft touch on his arm to get his attention in a meeting, a brush of shoulders when they were standing together in the elevator and of course all the taps on various parts of his body whenever Neal tried to change the station on the radio or when his feet were up on Peter's desk or when he'd just lifted Peter's wallet yet again.

And Neal liked the thought of Peter touching him because it made him feel special and desirable and safe. So Neal began to wonder what it would be like if Peter went further than the soft, ephemeral little nearly-touches that he graced him with now and touched him as though he really meant it. Neal started fantasizing at night in bed about how it would feel to have Peter's large hands stroke his skin and caress his face, he wondered how Peter liked to kiss, what he did with his tongue, whether he closed his eyes and what he would taste like and then he wondered what Peter's body looked like underneath his ill-fitting suits and how it would feel lying next to his…

And as he lay on his bed, hair a total mess, body sweaty and still covered with spots of partially drying come, he realized that he hadn't felt this good for nearly five years and not just because he'd finally managed to get an erection and reach a climax for the first time since being released from prison but because he now felt that he'd finally found something worth living for, someone that he wanted to have a relationship with. But that's where the fantasy ended because for the life of him he couldn't think how it would ever be possible to have Peter in the way that he wanted as Peter was straight and married and while Neal could work on the first one, he most definitely wouldn't interfere with the second especially not after having met the beautiful and talented Elizabeth Burke.

He filed it away in the back of his mind letting his subconscious work out the best way to proceed because he wasn't going to allow anything to dampen his spirits today. He had just achieved something that he never thought was going to happen to him again and it had been just as wonderful as he remembered. He fairly skipped to the shower to get cleaned up for work then got dressed in his favourite three-piece suit before styling his hair to within an inch of its life because he wanted to look extra good for Peter this morning. He winked at his reflection in the mirror then smiled. Watch out world…Neal Caffrey was back in the game.


	3. Peter

Trust and Protection: Discovery

Chapter two: Peter

Peter arrived back at work late in the afternoon, tired and strung out after a having spent the day in court. He was greeted by a smiling Cruz who pushed a plastic cup full of some sparkling, golden liquid into his hands. He took a sip then raised his eyebrows at her.

'Alcoholic beverages at the office in the middle of the afternoon?' He queried.

'It's champagne!' She told him, her eyes a little brighter and wider than normal. 'And it's not afternoon any more, it's early evening!'

'Semantics aside, what's the occasion?' He asked dryly.

'We just got a break in the Wade case…'

'Really? What happened?' Peter asked suddenly energized again.

'Come up and join the party. I think Hughes wants to tell you himself.' Cruz giggled.

Peter followed the young agent upstairs into the conference room which was full of people talking, laughing and drinking.

'Peter, there you are! Good day in court? Come and join us for a little celebratory drink.' Hughes said smiling.

'Already got one, Sir.' Peter said holding up his cup of champagne. 'And what exactly are we celebrating?'

'Your boy just got us a way in with one of Wade's employees, his accountant no less.'

His boy? Oh right…

'Well, if anyone could do it, Caffrey could!' Peter said smiling tightly as though he had planned the whole thing.

He turned and scanned the room to find Neal in the far corner gesticulating wildly to a group of women from the bullpen who hung onto his every word. He was flushed, bright-eyed, smiling and almost bouncing on his toes with enthusiasm and excitement; Peter had never seen him so animated before. And then Neal turned as though he could feel Peter's gaze on him and for a moment he just stood there, eyes wide and locked onto Peter's. And then his face burst into a blinding grin and he held his arms out as though he was about to take a bow which got him a cheer and a round of applause from everyone in the room.

Peter smiled in spite of himself, then rolled his eyes and shook his head as if in despair. Neal beamed at him again and raised his glass in a toast before turning back to his circle of admirers.

'You know… I was against the idea of getting Caffrey out of jail and allowing him to work here when you first suggested it, Peter.' Hughes said nodding over in Neal's direction. 'I still don't trust him mind you, but the kid did well today. We've been after Wade for years but no one has been able to get anything on him and now Caffrey gives us a possible route in with his accountant.'

He glanced over at Neal, holding court in all his narcissistic glory then turned back to Peter, a contemplative look on his face.

'If he can keep it together, if you can keep him under control, there might just be a place for him here after all. Enjoy the party, Burke, you've earned it.'

Peter took his drink and wandered around the room occasionally stopping to talk but mostly just surreptitiously watching Neal out of the corner of his eye. The young man was always in his element in a social situation such as this, where he was the center of attention, jumping between groups of people laughing, joking and flirting but there seemed something different about him tonight; it was like he was even more lively, more energetic and sparkling than usual, if that were indeed possible.

Peter sighed and got himself another drink. Neal had been a part of his life for over seven years now yet he seemed to spend more time than ever chasing after the quixotic young man, trying to find out what made him tick, worrying about what he was doing when he wasn't at work under his watchful eye and guardianship, worrying about whether he was going to run, thinking about ways he could keep Neal within his sights and try to persuade him that there was a life for him that didn't involve breaking the law.

And while those reasons to keep Neal near him were decent and well-meaning, Peter also had other reasons that weren't quite so noble, thoughts and actions that didn't necessarily always have the young man's best interests at heart…because lately Peter's feelings towards Neal had begun to change.

Whereas in the beginning, he had been annoyed when Neal followed him around like a pathetically over-eager puppy sometimes getting so underfoot that Peter nearly tripped over him when he turned suddenly, now he found himself actually engineering opportunities that would allow him to stand close to Neal or that made Neal have to get inside his personal space because then Peter would accidentally shift his weight so that his body would come into contact with Neal's and then he would inhale deeply and beneath that expensive after-shave, cologne or body wash the young man seemed to douse himself in, he would be able to detect a hint of that unique scent that he associated with Neal; clean and fresh and with just a hint of musk…

And it made his heart flutter and his face flush and a few seconds later his cock would begin to fill and then he would have to move away because he didn't want to do anything that would make Neal feel uncomfortable around him or jeopardize the tenuous trust that had built up between them and he certainly didn't want Neal knowing that he had got a boner on just from being near him.

He found himself thinking about Neal at inopportune moments, finding ways to sit next to him at meetings, to touch him without it being too obvious; a hand on the small of his back as he ushered him into a room, a soft tap on his wrist to get his attention, a push on his shoulder to make him sit which always lingered a little more than was strictly necessary.

And when he was alone without the distracting influence of Neal hovering in his peripheral vision or sitting opposite him with his feet up on the desk he tried to work out in his own mind what exactly was happening to him because it felt a lot like it did when he first started going out with El; the delicious anticipation of knowing that he was going to see Neal when he left for work in the morning, the need he felt to be constantly in his presence, to be close to him, to want to touch him, to imagine a scenario in which he might conceivably get to kiss him…

And then he would become embarrassed that he was thinking that way and bewildered about why he seemed to have a crush on Neal who was male yet whom he couldn't stop thinking about and wondering what it would be like to feel that slender, toned little body against his…

And the next day, he would try not to look at Neal and try not to let himself get into any situations where they might accidentally touch because he was happily married and didn't understand why he was feeling this way and he didn't know what Neal would think if he ever found out that his FBI handler was having extremely unprofessional thoughts about him or how Neal would feel in general about any sort of intimate activities with another man. But then Neal would be right in front of him, his hand gently making contact with Peter's arm, asking him if he was alright, staring up at him, blue eyes darkening as his pupils dilated and making no attempt to let go of him or move away from him and then he would get the feeling that maybe Neal wanted something from him too…

The party seemed to be winding down leaving Peter confused and partially aroused at the direction his thoughts had just been taking. He looked up to see Neal watching him carefully, his expression shuttered. He lifted his cup swallowing the remains of his champagne and stood up.

'Looks like your fans have had enough.' He said sarcastically, indicating the last few people leaving the room. 'And I need a real drink so come on, get your coat, let's go to a bar and you can tell me exactly what happened today.'

'An outing on a school night… Wow!' Neal said obviously pleased that Peter had bothered to invite him for a drink.

Peter just rolled his eyes as he shrugged into his coat and picked up his bag.

'And Peter!' Neal said beaming as he pirouetted then walked backwards out of the door. 'I hate to have to tell you this, but champagne is a real drink.'

'Maybe for people like you, but not for men like me.' Peter said walking past him and down the stairs.

'So what do men like you drink?' Neal asked a few minutes later as he stood next to Peter in the elevator.

'Something less fancy, less expensive…'

Neal snorted.

'Everything's less fancy and less expensive than champagne.'

'Less pretentious then…' Peter said raising an eyebrow and staring at Neal meaningfully.

'You mean like a cocktail or a glass of wine?' Neal said, a little too innocently for his question to be anything other than rhetorical.

Now it was Peter's turn to snort.

'Oh, so when you said less pretentious, you actually meant dull and mundane.'

'Neal…' Peter warned.

'You mean beer don't you?'

'What's wrong with beer?' Peter said suspiciously.

'Nothing, in the right circumstances!' Neal said putting his hands up as if in surrender.

'It's cool and satisfying and doesn't cost the earth and I like the taste of it.'

'Okay…'

'It also happens to be what men drink, Neal.'

There was an uncomfortable silence before the elevators doors opened.

'By which you mean 'real' men…' Neal said quietly walking out into the lobby, hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched.

'No! No, of course not! I didn't say that and I didn't mean it either.' Peter said following him out. 'Neal… Neal, wait…'

Neal stopped but didn't turn around. Great! Peter thought to himself, now he'd hurt the kid's feelings because of course 'real' men was exactly what he'd meant and both he and Neal knew it. But the fact that he'd stopped meant that he was giving Peter a chance to fix his mistake.

'Look! I just meant that I feel more comfortable drinking beer in a bar with other guys who work for a living and get paid an average wage who couldn't afford to drink a bottle of champagne like some catwalk model.'

There was another pause before Neal turned around and grinned, hard feelings now seemingly forgotten.

'So you think I'm pretty enough to be a catwalk model?' He asked slyly looking at Peter from beneath his lashes.

Peter let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding then rolled his eyes at the kid's vanity and conceit.

'Come on…' He said, putting his hands on Neal's shoulders and guiding him out of the building. 'I still need a real man's drink.'

'You're an inverted snob, you know that, right Peter?'

'Yes, Neal!' He said smiling as he pushed the sensitive young man out onto the street.

Five minutes later they were in a bar.

'Does this qualify as a real man's drink?' Neal said plonking a bottle of Jack Daniels and two shot glasses down on the table in front of Peter.

'Sure… But I thought that you were going to order me a beer?'

Neal shrugged, looking away, his cheeks coloring slightly.

'What?' Peter asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

'It's just… I really don't like beer very much and you invited me out so I wanted something we could drink together… Like real men.'

Peter frowned at Neal's reason for choosing the bourbon and at the overly casual way in which it had been said. That thoughtless comment he had made in the elevator had obviously stuck with Neal and since he felt the need to keep bringing it up, must have affected him deeply.

'Alright, but I thought we'd also agreed on less expensive… You did pay for this didn't you?' Peter challenged him, suddenly aghast at the thought that Neal would steal something then flaunt it in front of him.

Neal gave him the blinding fake smile with all the teeth. Peter closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He knew when he was being conned.

'Okay, hand it over…' He said with a long-suffering sigh.

Neal reached into his coat pocket, pulled out Peter's wallet and slid it across the table to him.

'So…Shall I pour?'

'You've got no shame!' Peter grumbled but accepted the shot of bourbon, up-ended his glass and swallowed it down in one.

'That looked like it hit the spot.' Neal said cheerfully, pouring him another.

'You've no idea…So, tell me what happened today with Wade's accountant.'

'Oh Peter! You should have seen me! You would have been so impressed…'

Peter rolled his eyes again at Neal's inflated ego but didn't say anything to contradict the energetic and effusive young man sitting opposite him. He had a couple more drinks while listening to the kid telling him all about today's encounter and the meet he'd set up for tomorrow. He rested his chin on his hands and watched Neal; all bright eyes and smug self-satisfied smiles, so vibrant and spirited and full of life…

And with the mellowing effect of the alcohol gently buzzing in his system and the relaxing, familiar sounds and smells that all bars seemed to have, he thought that there weren't many places he'd rather be right now than sitting here, drinking a good whiskey (even if he had paid for it himself) staring at the charming and charismatic Neal Caffrey who could be considered quite pretty, if you were into the whole guy thing of course… And that thought made him oddly aroused and he wondered not for the first time why Neal should engender these feelings in him.

Peter had always been a 'man's' man; he enjoyed sports, both watching and participating, he worked out at the gym, jogged and kept himself fit, he liked plain, no-nonsense classic American food and beer, he wasn't interested in fashion, he was good at DIY, bad at talking about his feelings and he had never once wondered what it would be like to touch another man… until now.

But there was something about Neal that had recently made Peter start to doubt himself and worry about whether he really was cut out to be a leader of an FBI unit that, despite his assurances to El that he was safe and that his work did not involve violent crime, did occasionally put him and his team members at some considerable personal risk. Peter prided himself on the fact that he was a good and fair-minded boss, treating everyone who worked for him with the same degree of respect regardless of their gender, race or sexual orientation, but much as though he tried to persuade himself that that was the case with Neal, that Neal was just another employee of the United States government exactly the same as Cruz or Jones or Diana, deep within himself he knew that wasn't so because he had become conscious of the fact that he treated Neal differently yet he wasn't able to rationalize why that should be.

Maybe it was his physicality; the fact he was smaller than Peter, both in height and weight, his slim body with its defined but not bulky musculature, his fine hands and smooth skin, the way he wore his hair; immaculately styled with lots of expensive product in it, the fact he didn't like guns and rough team sports, his boundless energy and the way he could never stay still, his obsessive cleanliness and the need to always look his best, the fussy way he dressed and walked, the way he sat; neat with his legs crossed at the ankle or knee, his overall prettiness…

But most of those things could apply to Lauren too, well, except for the gun part; Cruz did seem to enjoy brandishing her weapon perhaps a little more than was strictly necessary... But Cruz's relationship with her gun aside, was Peter's subconscious trying to tell him that the reason he treated Neal differently was because he thought of him as feminine or at least less than fully male? Was this why he was allowing himself to think about Neal in a sexual sense because he didn't think of him as a 'real' man and that somehow made it alright?

'What? Have I done something wrong?'

Neal's voice, full of equal parts curiosity and anxiety, interrupted his still unanswered questions to himself.

'I don't know, have you?

'Of course not!'

'So why the guilty conscience, then?'

'I'm not feeling guilty, it's just…you're staring at me!'

Peter snorted.

'I'm sure you're used to that by now, after all, you go out of your way to be the center of attention. You love being noticed. You're like a peacock, forever strutting your stuff! Doesn't everyone stare at you?'

'Not everyone, no.' Neal said quietly, staring back at Peter meaningfully, eyes unblinking.

And for a moment Peter couldn't breathe, couldn't look away, couldn't move for all the hope, desire and promises inherent in those amazing blue eyes. Could he really be reading Neal correctly? Was Neal actually trying to tell him that he wanted him? His throat was suddenly so dry he had difficulty swallowing.

'So why were you staring at me?' Neal asked, a little breathless.

'There's something different about you today.' Peter said, searching Neal's face in the vain hope that he would discover what it was.

'Different how?' Neal asked, sipping slowly at his drink and maintaining the eye contact with Peter.

'You seem more… excited, animated, happier I guess.' Peter said thoughtfully before frowning suddenly. 'Have you been planning something?'

Neal gave a genuine laugh of amusement which made Peter feel all warm inside. It was so rare to see the real Neal beneath the finely honed façade he wore like armour and Peter treasured these little moments of honest emotion whenever they happened.

'Trust you to think that I'm only happy when I'm planning a job! I'll have you know that I'm always a very happy person! I bring joy to everyone around me…'

'Except for the people you stole from…' Peter reminded him.

''Allegedly' stole from… But you're right, Peter, I am different today. I lost something a long time ago and this morning I found it again.'

'Like what?' Peter asked suddenly wary and having visions of music boxes and other stolen artefacts.

Neal hesitated, then bit his lip before looking up at Peter with haunted eyes.

'Let's just say it was something very precious to me that I thought I would never see again…'

And Neal just looked so lost and vulnerable that Peter couldn't help but reach out to him.

'Don't…' He said reaching out and gently running his finger over Neal's bottom lip. 'Don't bite it, you'll make it bleed.'

Neal's eyes widened before his mouth opened and the tip of his tongue touched Peter's finger.

Peter gasped and his eyes snapped up to meet Neal's. The contact had been minimal, yet it felt so intimate, so suggestive. Did Neal know what Peter wanted? Did he suspect what Peter fantasized about and what he wanted to do to him? Neal was staring back at him and there was no fake smile or cocky grin on his face now.

'I think I'd better take you home…'

'But you haven't finished your drink.' Neal pointed out softly.

'I'll take the bottle with me. I paid for it after all. Come on, get your coat, let's go…' Peter said abruptly.

Peter strode out of the crowded noisy bar not slowing his pace until he arrived at where he'd parked the Taurus. The cool evening air had abruptly sobered him up leaving him bewildered and confused about his feelings towards Neal. He couldn't deny he was attracted towards him anymore, but what did he seriously expect to happen between them…A kiss? A grope? A one night stand? And that was of course supposing that Neal also wanted something physical with him. Predictably, as of late, his cock began to harden at the thought of anything that remotely involved touching Neal, but although those things sounded fun and exciting the whole idea just felt so sordid, somehow.

Peter had been chasing Neal on and off for seven years; he probably knew him better than anyone else alive except maybe for his friend Moz and that was a big maybe. And as much as Peter had learned about Neal in those seven years he knew there was still so much more that was just waiting to be discovered beneath that charming and ever-changing con-man's façade. No matter how good he imagined anything physical with Neal would be he knew with absolute certainty that one night with him was never going to be enough.


	4. Peter and Neal

Trust and Protection: Discovery

Chapter three: Peter and Neal

Peter felt rather than saw Neal look at him anxiously several times on the drive home but he didn't try and talk for which Peter was grateful. Peter for his part also remained silent, his eyes firmly on the road, his emotions turbulent and his cock half-hard both at the thought and the scent of Neal sitting next to him.

Peter finally slid the Taurus into a parking spot outside June's mansion but left the engine running. There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment before Neal turned to face him.

'Would you like to come up?'

'I don't think that's a good idea, Neal.' Peter answered, looking out of the window and then at his watch and just about anywhere that wasn't Neal's face.

There was a pause before Neal spoke again in a quiet voice.

'You said today, that you thought I looked happier. And I am Peter, I am happy and in part it's because of you. That thing that I lost? I was thinking of you when I found it.'

'Neal, don't…' Peter pleaded.

'I'm a man too, Peter; a real one, like you. And I have needs and desires just as you do…'

And then he _was_ looking at Neal trying to discover if what he thought he just heard was actually what had been said because it sounded a lot like Neal had just offered him something. In fact it seemed a lot like Neal was offering himself, like maybe he wanted Peter to touch him, but couldn't for some reason make the first move and Peter desperately wanted to know if it was true or whether it was just another one of Neal's cons. Because, why would Neal want him anyway? Neal could have anyone. And why was he even thinking about this, considering this? He was married for God's sake…

But any other reasons and justifications he had been about to list reminding himself why taking Neal up on his offer would be a bad idea suddenly flew out of the window as Neal gently snagged his wrist, drawing Peter's hand towards his face but this time, instead of just licking the tip of Peter's finger, sucked it all the way into his mouth.

'Fuck!' Peter breathed out raggedly.

Blood surged into his groin and within a few seconds he was fully erect, his cock trapped at an awkward angle within his underwear, throbbing against the front of his pants. And he desperately wanted to reach down and release the pressure yet he couldn't move, couldn't stop staring at Neal, whose silver tongue was currently licking and slurping and sucking at his finger, those blue eyes filled with lust and longing and locked onto his.

There could be no mistaking what was being promised to him now as he felt Neal's tongue circling his knuckle before licking up the underside of his finger to suck on the tip of it and it was so erotic, so arousing that it might as well have been his cock thrusting in and out of that wet heat because he was going to come in his pants any moment now unless Neal stopped, unless he told Neal to stop.

There was a wet popping sound as he pulled his finger out of Neal's mouth.

'Get out of the car.' Peter ordered him, his voice desperate and a little uneven.

Neal didn't move. He looked devastated.

'Come on, get out!' Peter said reaching forward to turn off the engine.

Now Neal understood what Peter was suggesting he didn't need to be told twice and was out on the sidewalk before Peter had even got his door open. Peter caught up with him just as he was getting his keys out and surreptitiously adjusted himself, settling his engorged penis into a more comfortable position against the front of his pants before following Neal upstairs.

But now he was up here alone with Neal he was suddenly unsure of how he should go about initiating… whatever he had imagined was going to happen between them. He had never been with a man before, never wanted to, until now. Was it the same as making love to a woman? Did a man want to be kissed by another man or was it all about the sex because Peter didn't want to make a fool out of himself by kissing Neal if that wasn't how things were done plus no woman had ever just grabbed his hand then sucked his finger into their mouth silently promising him that his cock was going to be next.

But then Neal, consummate expert in reading peoples' body language that he was, must have picked up on his nervousness, sensed his hesitancy because suddenly he was standing in front of Peter, reaching up slowly, tilting his head and gently bringing their mouths together in a soft, chaste kiss.

The pressure was negligible, a brush almost. In fact, his touch was so light, it could hardly be considered a kiss at all, yet the sensations it produced in Peter's body told him otherwise. How could one simple, barely there kiss make him so aroused and desperate for more?

Neal's lips were warm, smooth, supple and so soft beneath his own and that gentle, reassuring kiss just served to fuel his arousal until he couldn't help but respond. He reached up and took hold of Neal's jaw with both hands pulling him closer then stuck his tongue out and ran it over Neal's full bottom lip. Neal gasped and Peter pressed up against him, thrusting his tongue between Neal's lips, demanding entrance inside. Neal put up no resistance as Peter explored every intimate detail of his mouth, touching and licking and pushing against his tongue. Neal tasted of a combination of cherry lip balm, the Jack Daniels they'd just drunk and a sweetness that Peter associated uniquely with him. It was a heady sensation and just made him desire Neal even more.

He was worried for a moment that kissing may not have been what Neal had in mind but then he heard him sigh and felt him relax against his chest. Kissing Neal was everything he'd ever imagined and with his eyes closed it was no different than making out with a woman, except that he could feel Neal's stubble rubbing against his own face as he kissed him, feel Neal's lithe, muscled body rocking gently against his, feel something hot and hard pressing insistently into his upper thigh, feel that he was with a man.

And that thought was very exciting and liberating because if he was with another man, there would be no need to hold back, to restrain himself physically when the urge to just take engulfed him. He wouldn't have to worry about the damage his superior strength would do to a small female frame when he lost control of his body, of his mind in the heat of sexual passion and the blessed release of orgasm.

He tangled his fingers in Neal's hair and tugged his head back causing his mouth to open even wider allowing him to deepen the kiss, to probe and explore him, to caress him with his tongue. He felt Neal twitch beneath him and then heard a strangled little gasp.

Peter pulled away letting go of Neal's head and looked at him quizzically. Neal blinked several times and appeared both surprised and confused.

'Are you okay?' Peter asked, breathing heavily and still very aroused.

Neal's gaze focused on Peter and for a second he looked like he was somewhere else entirely.

'Yeah, just…'

He shivered, running his hands through his hair several times then he seemed to make a conscious decision to relax before looking up at Peter again and giving him the blinding white smile.

'Yeah, I'm good…'

Neal took hold of Peter's head this time and kissed him openly and deeply, his tongue pushing and thrusting against Peter's. Peter moaned and closed his eyes enjoying the sensations of Neal taking charge, revelling in the heat and hardness of his body, growing increasingly aroused and desperate for more contact between them. He put his arms around Neal's back and slid his hands down to grab his ass and pull him closer.

Neal flinched and then jerked in his arms. The pressure on his lips, the tongue in his mouth all faltered, then ceased. A small whimper escaped Neal's mouth and then he was pushing frantically at Peter's chest, stumbling backwards out of his reach.

Confused by the loss of sensation at Neal's withdrawal, his body still humming with arousal and frustrated by yet another interruption, he took a deep breath in and let it out in what was supposed to be a calming sigh through his nose. He was desperate to continue as his hard-on would testify to but from Neal's reaction it seemed as though he had crossed some invisible line. He looked over at Neal who was staring at him, wide-eyed and pale, his body frozen to the spot.

'I'm sorry. Do you want to stop?' Peter asked raggedly, his breathing and throbbing cock making it very clear that that was not an option he wanted to pursue.

Neal jumped then blinked several times as though he couldn't understand the question and was trying to make sense of it.

'Are you okay?' Peter asked for the second time in as many minutes.

Neal nodded his head, but he clearly wasn't; he was shaking, his mouth was open and his breathing had suddenly become rapid and laboured.

'Neal…?'

'I'm sorry, Peter…Would you excuse me…? I need to go and freshen up…'

He didn't wait for an answer and all but bolted towards the bathroom where Peter heard the unmistakable sounds of vomiting a few seconds later.

The mist clouding Peter's mind caused by sexual desire and arousal cleared almost immediately leaving him horrified at what was happening with Neal and the fact that it must have been his fault, because it had all been going so well until he had grabbed his ass and it didn't take a genius to work out that Neal hadn't liked it to the extent he was now puking his guts up. And he'd thought that being with a man was going to be easier because men weren't supposed to be sensitive about which body parts you could touch or in what order you needed to do certain things; he hadn't thought that he'd need to ask permission or discuss what Neal wanted or liked before they started because on the whole men seemed to like anything you did to them, speaking from personal experience of course, as long as in the end, they got off.

And comparing Neal's behaviour to that of a woman suddenly reminded him of his wife and the fact that he was a happily married man, yet the thought that he had been about to cheat while he was standing there making the decision whether or not he should kiss Neal, had never even crossed his mind. But he had done it and if he hadn't messed things up with Neal he might have been doing a hell of a lot more that just making out. God! He couldn't believe it. He had just cheated on El. And for what? Because Neal probably hated him right at this moment and even if he didn't, he wouldn't want a repeat performance with someone who was so useless at sex that they made their partner puke.

He could tell that Neal had thrown up everything that was in his stomach because he was now down to that painful dry heaving. Peter felt guilty and scared both for Neal and his marriage. He couldn't face the thought of talking to Neal at the moment and was desperate to get home to confess to El and beg her forgiveness. He didn't want to lose Neal, but El was his rock; he didn't know how he could go on if he lost her. He let himself quietly out of Neal's apartment and fled back home.

Neal finally finished retching and slumped back against the bathroom wall exhausted. He had heard the door to his apartment close which could only mean that Peter had left. And Neal didn't blame him for leaving after all why would a good-looking, sophisticated man like Peter want to stay and waste his time trying to have sex with someone who was so damaged and broken they couldn't even stand to be touched?

Neal felt the tears start to prick behind his eyelids again. God! He thought he was over this. He hadn't had any flashbacks in months and he'd been so happy and proud of himself that he had finally managed to get it up and bring himself off this morning that he knew he was ready to have sex again. And Peter had seemed really keen once he had got over that initial awkwardness when they were both finally alone together.

And it had all gone so well at the start; kissing Peter was amazing and he had obviously liked it as he had started kissing Neal back. But then Peter had touched his hair and suddenly he'd got a flashback of another man's face, but then when he blinked it had gone, but the sensations and emotions it had evoked lingered and he felt upset and on edge and then Peter had asked him if he was okay and he wasn't, not really but it had been so good with Peter and he wanted to continue, to give Peter what he had come for and to get a repeat performance of this morning's wonderful conclusion…

But then Peter had touched his ass and he got another flashback, but this one was worse and he felt hands on his body and any minute now he just knew that his pants were going to be pushed down… And then Peter was talking to him again and logically he knew it was Peter and that Peter wouldn't hurt him yet he couldn't get rid of the feeling that he was going to be restrained and forced and then the shakes started and his breathing went out of control and he could feel the panic rising and finally came the urge to vomit.

Neal swiped angrily at the tears that insisted on welling up from his eyes despite him trying his utmost to stop them before wrapping his arms around his legs and dropping his head onto his knees in despair. How was he going to get past this latest setback? How was he going to persuade Peter that he wasn't some little prick tease by first coming onto him then pulling away like a startled and affronted virgin? How was he going to make Peter understand that he wanted him, that he was serious about him, after the way he had behaved tonight? And how on Earth was he going to manage to let Peter touch him if by some miracle he did want to try again because right now, just the thought of taking his clothes off in front of anyone, was making him feel sick, let alone having someone touch his cock or his ass.

The next morning Peter sat behind his desk trying to get some paperwork done but found himself reading the same two lines repeatedly as he thought about everything that had happened in the last 24 hours. After running out on Neal, he had driven home, his mind in turmoil over what he had done, both to Neal and his wife. He didn't know how he was going to broach the subject with El, but he needn't have worried because she took one look at him as he walked in the door and immediately asked him what had happened. And he just looked at her like a deer caught in the headlights and tried to speak but his mouth was all dry and he was having difficulty swallowing and then had she had asked gently whether it had anything to do with Neal and then he had broken down and confessed everything.

He told her that he had been fascinated by Neal and his schemes even before he had ever set eyes on the man and since meeting him, he had just become more and more enamoured by Neal's charm and brilliance. He told her about how conflicted he had felt when he had finally caught Neal (elation and professional satisfaction) and when he was sentenced to four years in maximum security (a sense of loss and worry about the kid's well-being). He confessed to his growing feelings for the young man, to how much more there was to Neal than just his cons and his fake smile and his use as a case solver for the bureau. He told her that he wasn't sure just what his emotions were regarding Neal, but that they were more than an FBI handler should feel for an asset in his charge and that he would do anything he could to keep Neal out of prison and finally he told her that they had kissed.

He waited in trepidation, not daring to look up, not daring to breathe, for El's response to the confession of his infidelity and then couldn't believe his ears when she said that it had taken him long enough to realize what she had known seven years ago. She said that he must be blind not to have noticed Neal's attraction towards him but that he must careful not to hurt Neal as the young man was so smitten with him that he would do just about anything Peter asked.

Peter remembered blinking and feeling like Alice who had just fallen down the rabbit hole.

'I don't understand…' He uttered frowning, confusion evident in his voice.

And El had smiled and hugged him and told him that she had known that this time was going to come, that she had shared him for more than seven years now, had watched as Peter studied Neal's FBI files and how his eyes would light up when he talked about his latest exploits and escapes, how their best sex always came the night after he had secured a new lead on locating Neal and that he now had her permission to get to know Neal better if that was what Neal also wanted but that he had to remember that she was still his wife.

And then he was staring at the object of his fascination and desire as Neal entered his office. And superficially, he appeared the same as he always did; impeccably dressed, his hat set at a jaunty angle on top of perfectly styled hair, blue eyes wide and questioning, a smug smile on his chiselled features. But Peter had known Neal long enough to realize that something was off; a blink too many, the smile too bright, his movements a little too controlled. Neal, by the looks of things was anxious but was trying very hard not to reveal that fact to Peter.

Peter thought back to what El had said to him last night; that although Neal seemed worldly-wise and laissez-faire about life, he was in his own way incredibly naïve about some things; he felt that he deserved whatever he took because he both wanted it and was clever enough to get it, but he didn't worry about the future and its possible repercussions. He was young and idealistic and an incurable romantic and while he desperately wanted to find Kate, he also needed someone in his life now that he could trust to love and be loved by in return. There weren't many people that could impress Neal Caffrey, but Peter was one of them, which made Neal desperate to please and impress him and also made him incredibly sensitive to Peter's moods, needs and desires.

So basically what El was saying was that Neal was vulnerable when it came to any interactions with him and that Peter could hurt him very easily with an angry or thoughtless comment. Neal obviously wanted some sort of physical relationship as was evident by his invitation to accompany him up to his apartment last night but Peter was unsure just what Neal expected of him. As far as he was aware, all men wanted sex and he had no reason to suspect that Neal was any different in that respect, yet Peter hadn't even gotten to second base with him last night; Neal had shied away from any contact more sexual than a deep and open kiss. Was he trying to tell Peter that he wanted to take things slowly; that there was a way of doing things with a guy that Peter wasn't aware of or was he actually trying to let Peter down gently because once he had got up close and personal he realized that he didn't fancy Peter as much as he once thought he had.

And while Peter desperately wanted Neal, now even more so after tasting him yesterday, he couldn't bear it if the reason Neal was looking so anxious was because he was trying to find a way to tell Peter that he had reconsidered and that he did actually prefer girls thank you very much.

'What do you want, Neal?' He asked gruffly.

And it came out much more abruptly and harshly than he had intended and he saw Neal blink and flinch and swallow before nervously telling him that he was due to meet Logan Michaels soon and were there any last minute instructions or plan changes that he needed to know about. Peter told him there weren't but did tell him that he was expected to report back to his office after the meet to discuss what he had learnt. Neal nodded submissively and quietly left the room.

He was back three hours later and Peter saw Hughes summon him almost as soon as he got out of the elevator. It was an hour after that when he finally appeared in Peter's office, silent and watching him carefully.

'Well? How'd it go? Did you learn anything useful?'

'Yes and no.' Neal replied enigmatically.

Peer leant back in his chair and crossed his arms impatiently.

'I'm not in the mood for games, Neal.' He warned.

'Yes, I learnt lots of things but none of them particularly useful to the Wade investigation. I did, however secure another meeting tomorrow. It seems that Logan isn't a very trusting sort of man and it's going to take me a little time to gain his confidence.'

'That's three meetings in a week, Neal. Could it be that you're losing your touch or do you just enjoy having expensive lunches out with rich young men?'

There was a pause as Peter belatedly realized how bitchy and jealous he had just sounded. What was the matter with him? He should be thanking Neal that he had managed to secure a meeting with one of Wade's employees.

Neal for his part just looked shocked at Peter's outburst then he took a deep breath in and swallowed nervously.

'Peter…I wanted to apologize for my behaviour last night. I think I must have eaten something that disagreed with me. I don't make a habit of inviting people up to my rooms just to throw up all over them. I really enjoyed what we did together yesterday and was wondering whether you'd like to carry on where we left off? Not now, I mean…' He said suddenly rather flustered. 'But later tonight. I mean come up tonight and carry on…'

And Peter did want that very much indeed but he wasn't certain that he wanted to be responsible for possibly hurting Neal, because El had been sure that Neal would do anything, say anything to please him, whether or not that was what he really wanted.

'I know what you mean, Neal, but are you sure that's what you'd like, because, don't get me wrong, it was great but it just seemed like you didn't really want to…'

'No! I mean, yes! I am really sure that I want you. I mean, that I want you to come up…'

Peter smiled. He suddenly felt absurdly happy both at the fact that Neal really did want him and at the fact that Neal had been so flustered and anxious that he had actually admitted that fact to him. It wasn't very often that the great Neal Caffrey lost his cool.

'Well in that case Neal, I would very much be interested in taking you up on your offer. In fact, I've had just about enough of this paperwork as I can handle for today so why don't I drive you home and see if we can't continue where we left off yesterday, hmm?'

Neal beamed at him.

'You won't be sorry, Peter, I promise!'


	5. Again Peter and Neal

Trust and Protection: Discovery

Chapter four: Again Peter and Neal

By the time Neal got up to his apartment, he was almost sick with nerves. He was so worried that he wasn't going to be able to perform, that Peter would think there was something wrong with him or worse that Peter would think that this was somehow another one of his cons; that he wanted or needed something from Peter and he was using his body to get it even though nothing could be further from the truth.

Ever since Peter had started chasing him more than seven years ago, Neal had been fascinated with the man. No one else had even been able to keep up with him, let alone catch him and twice at that. He was desperate for Peter to like him, to respect him as a person and not just for the unique skills he brought to the table for the FBI. Peter was so strong, so good, so fair-minded, so ideological. He really believed that people could change, that Neal could put his criminal past behind him, that Neal the man and not just the con was somebody that had inherent worth and Neal had become spellbound by him.

Neal also felt safe when he was with Peter. Peter wouldn't sell him out to the highest bidder behind his back, Peter would protect him from the Fowlers of this world, Peter had and would continue to rescue him and be there for him when things went wrong during an operation and Peter didn't treat him badly, by which he meant physically. Other people on finding out he was a convicted criminal had no compunction about grabbing him, pushing him, restraining him so tightly that on more than one occasion he had been left with bruises. Peter on the other hand always touched him lightly, gently, reverently and it always left Neal wanting more.

And Neal desperately wanted to please Peter, wanted to give him what he obviously desired, but yesterday had been so awful, well not the kissing part, that had been great, but the flashback part and the vomiting and the shakes that had lasted half the night. He could feel himself getting worked up just by the thought of it.

'Neal…'

Peter's voice brought him instantly back to the present. He turned to look at the tall, handsome man in front of him and automatically pasted on his brightest smile. Uh oh… Peter was frowning. He looked worried, concerned, as though he was working his way up to try and tell Neal some bad news; that he had changed his mind; that Neal wasn't worth his time, wasn't worth the risk to his marriage or career. Neal's eyes widened imperceptibly although his dazzling smile didn't falter in the slightest.

'Since our revealing little conversation yesterday, I thought that I had better humble myself and humour you so I stocked up on some beer. Would you like one?' Neal asked all tease and charm.

Peter's frown faded as his face broke into a smile.

'You, humble? That'll be the day! But yeah, a beer would be good…'

Peter had felt almost dizzy with excitement and arousal since following Neal up the stairs. He so desperately wanted Neal and since getting the green light from El there was nothing really to stop him just taking what was so obviously on offer. Yet, there was something nagging at the back of his mind, something not right about the whole situation and he wasn't sure if it was him or Neal that had the problem. And just in case it was him, because he had never been with a man before, because he didn't know what Neal expected from him, he thought he had better start out slow and find out what the ground rules were before causing a repeat performance of last night's fiasco.

He finished his beer, put it down on the table and looked over at the enchanting and enigmatic young man whom he'd been more or less obsessed with for the last seven years. If he wanted Neal to trust him, if he wanted any shot at having more than a one-night stand with him then he owed it to him to tell him the truth, no matter how stupid and embarrassed that made him look or feel. He took a deep breath in.

'You know that I'm not very good at this…'

'Good at what, Peter? Drinking? Kissing? Having sex?' Neal asked him innocently.

'What? No! I meant talking…About feelings and the like. Jesus Neal!'

Peter looked a little flustered, then quickly added:

'And I'll have you know, I'm plenty good at the other stuff.'

Neal just smirked and raised his eyebrows.

'Well, I've never had any complaints from anyone…Except for maybe the drinking.' Peter said, his cheeks reddening slightly.

Neal took pity on him.

'So, you've got feelings for me?' He asked, his voice light and just a little bit too carefree to fool Peter into believing that he wasn't very interested in hearing his answer.

'So it would seem…' Peter muttered quietly to himself before sighing.

'Look, Neal. You've probably guessed that I haven't done this before…Been with another man, I mean. And I don't want to mess it up with you, whatever 'it' is, and I'm not sure if it's different from being with a woman, apart from the mechanics, obviously…'

Peter could feel the whole of his face reddening now but he was determined to get through this.

'I mean, are there things that men are expected to do together or maybe not do together...?'

He sounded awkward and confused but also desperately sincere about his desire to get it right between them which made Neal feel very warm towards him but also made him relax because now he felt safe. Peter was being thoughtful and trying to take Neal's needs into consideration which meant Neal wouldn't have to do anything he didn't want to or that made him feel uncomfortable which hopefully meant that everything would go smoothly tonight with no flashbacks and no panic attacks.

'There are no rules, Peter.' Neal said gently and moving to stand in front of him. 'There's no one here but us, no one to watch us or judge us. We just do what feels good, what we want, what we like.'

'But that's the problem, Neal. I don't know what you like. I don't know how I should touch you and I want very much to do that right now…'

Neal could hear the frustration in Peter's voice but also see the desire in his face and arousal of his body. He took his elbow and led him to the couch.

'Would it help if you thought of me as a woman?' He asked tugging on Peter's arm to get him to sit down.

Peter looked at Neal in surprise then considered Neal's five o'clock shadow, his strong jaw, his prominent Adam's apple partially concealed by the collar of his shirt and knot of his tie, his slim angular body with its defined musculature, the back of his hands lightly covered in dusting of fine, dark hair, his narrow hips and muscular thighs encased in form-fitting pants revealing just a hint of a bulge at his crotch… There was no way Neal could ever be thought of as feminine despite his overall prettiness.

'No, I don't think it would help. I just can't see you that way.'

'That's a relief, because I don't really see myself that way either. So, let's look at it from the other side then. When you're with Elizabeth, what does she like you doing to her?'

Peter gave Neal a curious look.

'In general terms of course…' Neal reassured him.

'Okay, Yes…'

Peter nodded, thinking.

'She likes it when I kiss her…'

'I like it when you kiss me too…' Neal said staring at Peter's mouth.

Peter suddenly felt very hot under the intensity of Neal's gaze.

'She… She likes me to touch her nipples; to run my thumbs over them, back and forth, over and over until they're sticking out in little hard peaks, but I have to do it very gently, slowly, softly, because she's so sensitive…'

'I like it when my nipples are touched too…' Neal said breathlessly, his body shifting position, his hips moving restlessly.

'And she likes me to…to lick her.' Peter said, both a little embarrassed to be talking about the intimate details of his love life but also incredibly turned on at watching Neal's reactions.

Neal's eyes widened before he swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing noticeably and then he dropped his gaze.

'I like being licked too, but I also like doing the licking…' He said shyly apparently unable to look at Peter while he admitted what he enjoyed sexually.

Peter put his finger under Neal's chin, softly applying pressure encouraging him to lift his head up before leaning forward and gently brushing his lips over Neal's. He heard Neal's breath hitch, felt his body still, before Neal sighed and relaxed against him. Neal's lips felt just as soft and supple and smooth as yesterday and it was all he could do not to just grab his head and plunge tongue-first inside his mouth and kiss him senseless. But he'd promised himself that he was going to take this slow so that Neal learnt to trust him, so that they could get onto other even more pleasurable things tonight.

He touched his tongue to Neal's bottom lip, gently pushing inside, licking and exploring Neal's perfect front teeth. Neal gasped causing his mouth to open. Now was his chance to plunder Neal's mouth. He wanted to thrust inside, to push and touch and taste Neal's tongue. He was so aroused; he could feel his dick hard up against the front of his pants. He wanted Neal so badly…

He gently withdrew his mouth from Neal's and watched as the young man's long, dark eyelashes slowly fluttered open. His pupils were huge, blown wide, surrounded by a narrow ring of blue, his mouth, still slightly open, lips pinker and fuller than normal.

Peter noticed that they were both breathing a little heavier than usual. He smiled to himself. It seemed that Neal was as turned on as he was.

'Take off your shirt…' Peter whispered.

He leant back against the couch and spread his legs apart giving him room to adjust himself. When he had finished settling his cock in a more comfortable position, he left his hand on his groin, while all the time keeping his eyes on Neal.

Neal, however, hadn't moved from where he was sitting, his gaze now firmly fixed on Peter's crotch.

'Neal… Your shirt…' Peter reminded him.

Neal's eyes snapped up to Peter's face and he took a deep breath in letting it out in a shaky sigh before easing himself off the couch and standing in front of Peter. He reached up and loosened his tie before sliding it off from around his neck then hanging it over the back of a chair. Next he undid each of his cuff-links exposing his slender wrists, then moved back up to his neck and snapped open the button on his shirt collar before his breath hitched and his hand stilled at his throat as he saw that Peter had started to caress himself, running his fingers lightly over the large elongated bulge in his pants.

Peter watched him staring and noticed the faint blush high up on his cheek bones and how he licked his lips so invitingly. They weren't going to get anything done at this rate if Neal kept getting distracted so easily. Peter stood up in one fluid motion causing Neal's eyes to widen as he took a hasty step backwards.

'You don't seem to be getting very far with this. Shall I help you?' Peter asked him.

Neal didn't take his eyes off Peter's mouth and just nodded wordlessly. Peter slowly and surely undid each button gradually exposing Neal's chest. Neal for his part hadn't moved; he just couldn't seem to concentrate on anything other than watching Peter slowly undress him. When Peter was done, he tugged the bottom of Neal's shirt out of the waistband of his pants and felt his abdominal muscles twitch and ripple beneath his fingers. Neal let out another shaky sigh as Peter pushed the shirt off his shoulders, drawing it off over his arms and dropping on the couch behind him.

And for a moment, Peter just stood there, eyes wide, mouth open, staring at Neal's body in awe; he couldn't help it. He was used to looking at and appreciating art; from the stolen stuff he dealt with at work to the museums and galleries that El made him go to with her yet all those beautiful portraits and statues paled in comparison to Neal. Everything about him was exquisite.

His body was lean and lithe with not an ounce of fat on it yet he was surprisingly well built for someone of such slight stature and with his slender proportions. His shoulders, biceps and forearms were muscular yet not overly bulky, toned and perfectly defined; his chest was hairless, his nipples were small and dusky, his abdomen was flat but also showed the subtle ridges of well-developed rectus muscles underneath lightly tanned, smooth skin. He must work out to get a body like that, yet Peter knew Neal wasn't a member of any gym… And despite the fact that Peter himself _did _exercise regularly and that he was bigger, stronger and more powerfully built than Neal, he suddenly felt terribly insecure about his own physique.

'Your body…'

He raised his eyes in wonderment to look at Neal who was watching him carefully.

'It's perfect!' He said helplessly.

Neal's eyes sparkled and then his face broke into a wide grin and before Peter could even appreciate how pretty he looked, Neal was on his knees in front of him. Those long slender fingers made quick work of unfastening his pants before pulling the waistband of his shorts down to rest just underneath his balls allowing his throbbing erection to surge forwards into the space between them. Neal made a humming noise of approval before Peter lost the ability to think as a puff of warm air ghosted across the sensitive head of his cock.

He looked down to see Neal's tongue, pink and wet, lick at the tip of his penis before taking him into his mouth then swallowing him halfway down. He gasped. Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Neal Caffrey was on his knees in front of him, half naked and giving him a blow-job!

Neal's talented tongue circled his cock head gently teasing at the sensitive edge of his glans, flicking his frenulum, dipping into the slit at the tip of him, licking and pressing up along the thick vein on the underside of him slowly driving him insane. Peter knew he was moaning and gasping and whispering nonsense like 'oh yeah' and 'so good' and 'don't stop' but he was beyond embarrassed at his lack of originality and control, he just wanted more of these exquisite sensations that were ramping him higher and higher towards release. He wanted Neal to take him deeper, he wanted to grab his head and thrust into that sinful, clever con-man's mouth, he wanted…And then it was gone and he felt cold air where there should have been velvet, wet heat…

Annoyed and confused at the interruption he looked down to see Neal staring wide-eyed at his cock that was hard and red, glistening with saliva and precome while he sucked and slurped with enthusiasm on his own finger. Peter thrust his hips forward unsubtly indicating his desire to continue where he had left off and Neal must have understood because the next thing Peter felt was that wet heat surrounding him again. He moaned his approval at the amazing sensations coming from his dick, before he felt his balls being lifted up and then that wet finger was pressing against his perineum, stimulating his prostate from the outside and sending sparks up his spine.

Oh God! Now he realized why Neal had stopped. Now he knew why Neal had sucked his own finger, had _lubricated_ his finger… He felt a gush of pre-come leak out of the tip of his penis at just the thought of it; Neal hummed again in approval which just served to heighten the sensation coming from his cock. Neal must have taken that as a sign he liked what was being done to him as the next thing Peter felt was that slender wet finger sliding backwards across his perineum probing between his butt cheeks to press up against his asshole. Peter involuntarily clenched his muscles… Nobody had ever touched him _there_ before. He didn't know if he wanted to do that, if he was ready for that and what it implied…

But then Neal was gently pulling and squeezing his balls and then there was suction on his cock and another jet of pre-come spurted out of him and the combination of his cock and balls being stimulated together plus that wet finger wiggling and pressing ever upwards trying to penetrate him was going to make him…Oh God! He felt his groin start to tighten, felt that last build up of sensation before the pleasure peaked and he would climax. Oh shit! He was going to come…He was going to come in Neal's mouth…Oh God! Oh God!

'Jesus! Jesus! Fuck!' He cried out in a strangled sob.

And then he was grabbing Neal's shoulders and pushing him away and there was an obscene wet popping sound as his cock was roughly and unceremoniously pulled from Neal's mouth and bobbed free in the air; huge and wet with saliva, still leaking pre-come and so hard it hurt. And normally when he was getting close he would press the heel of his hand on the base of his cock or tug sharply on his balls to try and take himself off the boil and delay things for a while but now he was too frightened to do anything, too scared to even pull his shorts back up over himself because he knew that one single touch was all that it would take…

He stood stock still, hands hovering around his thighs, breathing deeply through his nose, trying to get back some semblance of control. When he felt as if he were no longer in danger of going off like a rocket at any second, he looked down at Neal who was still on his knees with a smug and self-satisfied smirk on his face.

'Enjoying yourself?' Peter asked, his voice a little hoarse.

'I'll say! And it looks like you were too!' Neal said nodding at Peter's still present erection while wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

'Are you happy now?' Peter said, gingerly pulling his shorts up and over his still sensitive cock.

'At making Special Agent Peter Burke who's normally so staid, serious and somber unravel and come completely undone? You betcha!'

And something about Neal's smug grin and the twinkle in his wide blue eyes and the flirty off-hand way he spoke made Peter feel that this was all a game to him, that he had deliberately manoeuvred things so that he could get one over on Peter, show him yet again that it was Neal who pulled the strings, that it only felt like Peter was in charge because Neal had engineered it that way. He felt a competitive spike of anger surge inside of him.

'Well let's see what happens to you when the shoe is on the other foot, hmm?' He said smiling dangerously as he reached down and pulled Neal roughly to his feet.

'Stop!'

Peter froze on the spot at Neal's high-pitched cry, his hands still wrapped around his upper arms, his heart beating furiously at the thought that he had done something to really scare Neal. But there was no fear in Neal's face, just a mischievous and teasing smirk.

'I refuse to be man-handled and ravaged senseless by somebody who's wearing a tie as ugly as that one. Off, Peter. Take it off!'

And for a moment Peter couldn't believe what Neal was telling him to do, but then he saw the grin and realized Neal was mocking him and that there was no way he thought for a second that he was going to lose control as Peter had done so spectacularly just a few minutes ago. Neal couldn't seem to help himself. Everything was a game to him; everyone just another mark to be manipulated…

'Why you little brat!' Peter hissed angrily before grabbing him by his hair and bringing their mouths together in a rough, demanding kiss.

Neal's body went rigid before he began to struggle, gasping and whimpering. Peter wasn't falling for his demands to stop a second time. He yanked Neal's head back and thrust his tongue into his mouth, forcefully, urgently because suddenly he couldn't get enough of this, enough of Neal.

Neal's struggles intensified; his body twisting beneath Peter's and accidentally bringing his erection in contact with Neal's stomach. Peter moaned at the sensation and rocked up against Neal, gripping him tighter before there was a sharp, searing pain at his mouth. He let go of Neal who stumbled backwards away from him, eyes wide, face pale and breathing heavily.

Peter tasted the metallic tang of blood and touched his fingers to his lip to see them come away red. He looked over at Neal, frowning in consternation.

'You bit me!' He said stupidly.

And Neal was doing that blinking thing again and then there was the look of confusion as though he didn't remember where he was and then he was smoothing his hand through his hair, over and over, before his eyes widened as though he had only just realized what had happened.

'Peter! I'm sorry, I'm sorry…'

'I don't understand.' Peter told him dabbing at his lip. 'Is this all some sort of a game to you? I mean, you don't need to play hard to get with me…Or is this just your way of telling me that you like it rough…?'

'No! No! It's not a game. I'm not playing with you, I promise! It's just you pulled my hair and it hurt…'

'Well perhaps you should get it cut then…' Peter interrupted him. 'Then people wouldn't be able to get their fingers tangled in it and other people wouldn't need to bite them.' He finished off sarcastically.

He knew he was being petty but how was he to know that this time Neal actually wanted him to stop? Besides, his lip really hurt.

'I'm sorry, Peter, I truly am and I would never play hard to get with you and I…I really don't like it rough…'

Neal's voice quivered at the end of that sentence making Peter feel that he honestly meant what he said.

'Good, because I'm not sure if I could deliberately do anything to hurt you.'

He looked across at Neal trembling slightly, his hand still stroking through his hair and then looked down at himself, pants wide open but underwear at least covering his now totally flaccid penis. God! What was he doing here?

'I think I'm going to call it a night.' He said turning around to locate his suit jacket.

'No!' Neal cried anxiously. 'No, you can't. Please don't go…'

'Look! I'm not really in a state to continue at this moment…' He said tucking himself back in and refastening his pants.

'But that's not a reason to leave.' Neal said earnestly, suddenly standing in front of him.

'Neal…' Peter warned.

He knew that look in those wide, unblinking, mesmerizing, impossibly blue eyes; the one that said 'you can trust me' and 'doing what I want is the right thing to do' and he knew he was being manipulated, but it didn't make it any easier to resist Neal's charms.

'Let me take care of you. I can fix it so easily…' Neal whispered into his ear.

And then he didn't have the time or inclination to worry about whether he was being played or not because Neal's hands were undoing his button and zipper for the second time that evening and then long, slender talented fingers were worming their way through the flap of his boxers and gently taking him out… And as he felt himself hardening once more, he realized that Neal was right; it was so easily fixed…

Neal initiated the kiss this time and Peter was content to follow, closing his eyes and just letting the sensations of Neal's lips and fingers wash over him. He heard himself sighing into Neal's mouth and gently thrusting into Neal's hand and the touch was so glorious that he wanted to explore more of that wonderful body caressing him.

He put his hands on the muscles either side of Neal's neck being careful not to touch his hair this time. He ran his hands outwards off his shoulders, down over his arms, squeezing, kneading the powerful and well defined muscles of his biceps and forearms beneath smooth and supple skin. Back up over his triceps and shoulders and down his hairless chest, over his pectoral muscles, over dusky pink nipples. That earned him a sharp intake of breath and a hiss. He smiled to himself. Neal had obviously been telling the truth when he'd said that he liked having his nipples touched; he was almost as sensitive there as El was.

He carried on his exploration of Neal's body. Down over his smooth, flat abdomen, down over his 'six-pack', the ridges of his rectus muscles so sharply distinct now that he was feeling them, down following that enticing narrow trail of dark hair from his navel until it disappeared under the waistband of his pants. Peter could feel himself getting more and more aroused at the thought of making Neal finally lose control. Yet something didn't seem quite right.

Neal had stopped kissing him and the hand that had been slowly and gently jacking him off was now moving in an uncoordinated manner, giving him rough and jerky pulls. Neal's breathing had changed again too; it was now slow and deep and contrary to the erratic rhythm of his hand, was as regular as clockwork. His eyes were closed and it almost seemed as though he was in a trance.

Peter had thought that Neal was enjoying himself, all the physical evidence had pointed in that direction but what if it was actually all one-sided, coming from him? He began to undo the waistband of Neal's pants and was startled as he gasped and bucked his hips violently; his deep trance like breathing immediately forgotten and replaced by rapid, shallow panting. The jerky movements on his cock became ever more erratic until a few seconds later they stopped altogether.

Peter didn't try to undo Neal's pants again, he just grabbed at his groin, cupping him roughly, hoping to feel a hardness echoing his own or at least some evidence of his arousal. Yet there was nothing. Neal's package was limp and lifeless.

A strangled scream forced its way out of Neal's throat before he wrenched Peter's hand away from his groin and stumbled backwards out of his reach. Up until this point Peter had just about managed to convince himself that Neal's physical responses were due to arousal and sexual excitement caused by his presence, but now he knew first hand that nothing could have been further from the truth.

He noticed that Neal was breathing noisily, his chest rising and falling in short, sharp bursts. His arms were wrapped protectively around his body yet whether that was to provide some sort of comfort to himself or to try and cover his bare torso, Peter couldn't be sure. His eyes were wide and unblinking, his pupils so dilated that his eyes appeared black, yet this time, it wasn't from arousal, it was from fear. His face was pale and his lips were wet and swollen from their kissing, making them appear even more pouty than usual. He looked young, innocent, and very, very frightened.

'Neal…'

Peter was at a loss over what to do. He wanted to go and comfort the kid, reassure him that there was nothing to be scared of, but since he seemed to be the cause of Neal's current predicament, he wasn't sure that approaching him and touching him would necessarily produce the desired response.

'Neal, are you okay?'

And then Peter noticed that he was shivering. Maybe that would explain the arms around his chest. He picked up Neal's shirt from where he had dropped it on the couch and approached him slowly as he would a nervous or skittish child.

'Are you cold?' He asked holding out the shirt.

Neal continued to shake yet his breathing seemed a little slower, a little more settled.

'I'm sorry, Peter…' He said, his eyes bright with unshed tears.

He took the shirt with trembling hands and shrugged into it, yet the buttons seemed to be beyond him.

'Neal…' Peter started.

'I'm sorry Peter, I just have to… I'll be right back. Please don't leave this time.'

And then he was running to the bathroom and just like yesterday he started vomiting.

Peter watched Neal go with a mixture of concern, confusion and anger: Concern for Neal's well-being because something was obviously wrong with him that he needed to throw-up two days in a row: Confusion because he didn't understand what Neal was playing at. Why would Neal make all that effort to try and seduce him when it was obvious, after touching his cock anyway, that he wasn't gaining any pleasure from it? And anger because he thought that Neal had learned to trust him, yet yesterday Neal had lied about the reason he had been sick so who knew how many other things he was lying about.

And Peter already felt a little unsure about the huge step he had taken with Neal; the huge risk he had taken both to his relationship with El despite her having given permission for him to sleep with Neal and to his career which would effectively be over if anyone ever found out he was having an illicit sexual relationship with a convicted criminal under his supervision. Yet it was the lying that really upset him; the lack of trust and the fact that he, in his desperate desire to have sex with Neal, had let his guard down, had let himself be fooled into believing Neal when he'd said that he actually wanted Peter.

'Neal, what's going on?' Peter asked him when he finally emerged from the bathroom, hair neatly combed, shirt freshly buttoned and tucked into his pants.

'Nothing! I'm fine!' Neal said in a light voice.

And whereas a second ago, Peter had been worried and concerned for both Neal's well-being and the possible reasons behind his abnormal and highly exaggerated reaction to being touched, he was now suddenly furious.

'Stop lying to me.' He cried angrily.

'Peter…I really am okay. I mean…You just startled me when you grabbed me that was all.' Neal said, smiling reassuringly.

'What?' Peter said in disbelief. Neal was behaving as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't just totally freaked out and spent the last fifteen minutes puking his guts up. Did Neal really think he was some sort of idiot that was going to fall for this bull-shit?

'I have a rather heightened fight or flight response.' Neal explained, 'Too much adrenaline you see and it causes the shakes, but it'll be gone in a few minutes then we can carry on…'

'Carry on?' Peter said incredulously. 'Are you mad?'

'I'll be fine, Peter.' Neal said in his best con-man voice.

'Neal, you are so far from fine, I don't even know where to start. Why did you do this? Why did you flirt with me and ask me up here when you obviously can't bear to be near me? Is it some sort of perverted game or a bet or just another one of your cons?'

'No! It's not like that at all. I invited you here because I want you and I want to have a relationship with you.'

'How can you want me? You didn't even get the slightest bit hard.'

'I did, at the start, I did! But then you just grabbed my cock and it startled me. And there's more to sex than an erection. Just because I wasn't hard, it didn't mean I wasn't turned on.'

'There's more to sex than just penetration I grant you, but you can't be aroused without getting an erection, Neal.'

'Okay, just give me a few minutes, I can get it up. I can fix this.'

'Listen to yourself, Neal. Why are you trying so hard to force yourself to have sex with me?'

'Because I want you and I thought that you wanted me too.'

Peter sighed.

'I do want you, Neal. But not like this. I want you to enjoy being with me and until you can trust me; until you stop lying to me; until you can stand to be touched by me, I don't really know how we can have any sort of physical relationship together.'

'Peter, please don't go.' Neal cried out desperately. 'I'll try harder, I promise…'

'Good-bye, Neal, I'll see you at the office tomorrow.'


	6. Hughes

Trust and Protection: Discovery

Chapter five: Hughes

Neal watched Peter leave through tear filled eyes before his shaky legs finally gave out and he sank to floor in despair. He had blown it again and this time there was no way that Peter would be back. He didn't know what to do either about Peter or his 'problem'. He had been scared at the start of the evening but it seemed that Peter was just as anxious as he was and that thought had been comforting in a strange way…

Then Peter was kissing him and undressing him and staring at him with such admiration and hunger in his eyes and he could feel himself getting hard and he hadn't been afraid until Peter had got mad at him and grabbed his hair and he'd had yet another flashback. And as much as he'd tried to put it out of his mind and concentrate on his breathing and on the sexy man in front of him, he could feel his erection flagging, feel the anxiety rising and knew as soon as Peter started exploring his body that sooner or later he was going to touch his cock…

And Neal had readied himself for that eventuality; he knew it was going to happen and he knew what he was going to do while it was happening, however, all the planning in the world couldn't prepare him for the memories and the panic and the fear that just surged up in him the moment he had been touched. He knew logically that it was Peter and that he was safe in his rooms and that Peter wouldn't hurt him, would only do what he was comfortable with, would stop if he told him to, yet all he could think of was the overwhelming need to get away before his pants were pushed down…

He felt the tears start but in his desolation didn't have the energy to brush them away. He had tried so hard to put it all behind him, tried to bury within his mind the awful things that had happened to him, tried to make a new life for himself, to forge a new relationship with Peter, yet something inside him, something in his brain was making it impossible for him to forget. He had always been good at thinking his way through problems and pretending and faking his way out of dangerous situations, yet no clever con was going to get him out of this one, no acting was going to be good enough to persuade Peter that he enjoyed being touched. What on Earth was he going to do?

Neal got very little sleep that night; not that he had expected much coming down as he was from a panic attack, however he was also worrying about how Peter would interact with him at the office the next day. He had been ready for Peter to be angry at him or sarcastic or just to be given the silent treatment and had even been prepared for Peter to tell him that he was being reassigned to another handler, but he didn't expect Peter to stoically carry on as usual.

The following morning Peter was civil, courteous and professional in all aspects of his work and behaviour. There was no eye-rolling at meetings, no lingering looks across the room and absolutely no inadvertent touching. Peter was treating him the same as any other employee that worked for him and Neal hated it. He had felt special before but now it was just as if Peter was trying to forget that anything had ever happened between them.

Over the next few days he tried to catch Peter's eye at meetings, tried to hang around at the end of the day so that he could be alone with him, tried to get into situations where he could legitimately touch him, even if it was just a hand on his arm to get his attention, but Peter steadfastly managed to avoid looking at him or remain in a room alone with him and the times that Neal did succeed in touching him, Peter would just ask with a resigned sigh:

'What do you want, Neal?'

And in his head Neal was shouting 'you' and 'I'm sorry' and 'please give me another chance' yet in reality he would pause and stare up into Peter's eyes willing him to understand what he was trying so hard to say without words before Peter would frown and turn away and then he would have to pretend that what he really wanted to talk about was Logan Michaels and the Wade case.

* * *

Peter felt Neal touch his arm. He closed his eyes, momentarily reliving the wonderful feeling of having Neal's hands on his skin once again before steeling his face into a featureless mask and turning around to look at Neal as though he were just another one of the many people working for him who had a legitimate question to ask.

'What do you want, Neal?' He would ask patiently, his expression one of polite enquiry.

But then Neal would just stare at him, gazing up at him with those huge, unblinking blue eyes and he could swear that Neal wanted him, that he wanted Peter to touch him and it would be so easy because all he would have to do would be to lean forward just a little bit and he could be kissing Neal again, running his tongue over those delicious, pouty lips, licking him, tasting him…

And then his senses would return and he would remember why he walked out on Neal in the first place; because Neal didn't really want him, Neal had lied to him, Neal was playing some sort of game with him and Peter was fed up of being made to look like a fool by a convicted felon who was fourteen years younger than he was. So he would frown and then Neal would tell him about yet another meeting he was having with Wade's accountant and it made Peter jealous that Neal was talking about another man as though they were going out on a date and then he would have to turn away so that Neal couldn't see his face and pick up on his emotions.

And then he would feel angry at himself for getting jealous when he had no right to be since he was the one who had told Neal that they couldn't have a physical relationship until he was happy to be touched…And then he would resolve to be even more detached in his dealings with Neal which instead of achieving the desired effect of pushing Neal away paradoxically seemed to draw him closer, always trying to catch his eye, always trying to get him alone, always trying to touch him…In fact Neal became so clingy he started behaving much like he did when he first got out of prison; not leaving Peter's side and following him around so closely that if Peter stopped suddenly or turned around Neal almost bumped into him. It drove him crazy, yet when he mentioned it to El, she looked at him thoughtfully before saying it sounded as though Neal was anxious and then asked him if he had done anything to upset Neal…Which of course he had, but what about all the things that Neal had done to upset him?

And so it continued between them; Peter remained cool, detached and unemotional yet underneath the surface was seething with anger, lust and regret because he missed the old camaraderie he used to have with Neal not to mention Neal's tongue in his mouth and Neal's mouth on his cock…And Neal continued to try and attract Peter's attention, doing everything he could to please him, to be noticed by him, giving him ever more dazzling smiles, being ever more polite, cool and charming...

Yet at night when he was asleep and his subconscious was free to process all that was happening to him without the destructive input from his memory and logical mind, his brain and body were able to let go and he would dream of Peter kissing him and touching him and of gently easing his way inside of him and he would wake up relaxed and sated from the receding pleasure of a nocturnal orgasm, wet and sticky, with Peter's name on his lips and his hand on his softening cock.

Then one day almost two months after that fateful evening at Neal's apartment when Peter was feeling particularly annoyed with Neal because he had had yet another lunchtime meeting with Wade's accountant and had spent nearly four hours away from the office, not that there was anything pressing that Peter needed him to do, but still, a four hour lunch break! He had come in reeking of alcohol, although he had denied any more than two glasses of wine and to give him his credit he didn't act like he was drunk but then he had sat down in Peter's chair and put his feet up on Peter's desk exposing his tracking anklet like he didn't care that Peter more or less owned him and played with his ridiculous hat before his face broke out into a dazzling smile and he announced calmly that he had finally wangled himself an invitation to Wade's party at his hotel courtesy of one Logan Michaels.

And Peter knew that this was a big deal, that no one had got this close to Wade before and one part of him was really proud of Neal for accomplishing something that no FBI agent, himself included, had ever been able to do, yet there was another part of him; the jealous and irrational part that didn't want him meeting other men, that was angry and wanted to punish Neal for betraying him.

'Well it's about time…' He said spitefully, ignoring the hurt look on Neal's face. 'And you'd better go and get a coffee before we go up and tell Hughes because you smell like a brewery and that won't be good for either of our careers. Go on!'

Neal put his feet down yet didn't make a move to stand up.

'I don't think we should tell Hughes just yet.' He said quietly.

'Are you kidding me? This is a major break in the case. We have to tell him.'

Neal hesitated, then bit his lip.

'What? What aren't you telling me?' Peter asked frowning at Neal's reticence.

'Logan's very clever which is why Wade uses him to do his accounts. But he's also very shy and it's taken me all this time to get him to trust me enough to invite me to go to Wade's party with him. I can get you the information you want Peter but it's going to take me some time. There's no point in telling Hughes because he'll want to do something now and Logan isn't ready to talk.'

'Neal, I can't keep this from him. He'll find out from someone else and then we'll both look suspicious.'

'Peter, I know I've done things that have upset you, but don't let your personal feelings for me interfere with doing your job. You have to trust me on this. Logan's not ready yet…'

'My _personal _feelings for you, such that they are, in no way interfere with my ability to do my job except in so far as you are a convicted criminal who has been released from prison to work for the FBI as a consultant under my direct supervision and as such I am responsible for you and your actions. I therefore can not agree with your suggestion to keep this information from my direct superior…'

Peter noticed the crushed look on Neal's face.

'I will however, point out your reasons for wanting to take it slow…'

* * *

The next afternoon saw Peter standing in his Boss's office having been summoned there almost an hour earlier.

'That's enough, Burke!' Hughes warned ominously. 'The decision to proceed with the Wade case has already been made which makes this discussion both irrelevant and over.'

Peter stared at his boss, holding his gaze aggressively for several moments before remembering just who he was talking to and finally looking away.

'Yes, Sir!' He bit out, his jaw clenching in reluctant submission.

Hughes sighed in exasperation.

'Damn it, Peter! You knew we didn't have unlimited time on this one. Vincent Wade has been liquidating his assets for weeks now and his accountant is the only one who can tell us where that money's going. We tried it your way and against my better judgement I let your pet convict call the shots and unsurprisingly I got nothing in return.'

'That's not quite true, Sir…'

'Of course, you're right, I'm sorry, Burke! I got a receipt for dinner at 'La Traviata', a restaurant so exclusive that even the director of the FBI himself couldn't get a reservation. Then there was the caviar, oysters, cigars, champagne, wine, cocktails, a bottle of 20 year old single malt, and finally let's not forget the small anthology of poetry; first edition of course.' Hughes said his voice dripping with sarcasm.

_Nea__l!_ Peter cringed internally. It did sound bad when Hughes put it like that. And what was with the poems?

'Sir, I understand that Caffrey can be a little…'

'Flashy? Capricious? Arrogant? Unreliable? All of the above? Hughes supplied dead-pan.

'Well I was going to say annoying…' Peter muttered, 'but you do have a point. However, to be fair to him, Caffrey couldn't really be expected to entertain a high powered business executive at the diner across the street…'

'A single bottle of that wine he drinks costs more than the monthly payment on my car!'

'I understand, Sir, but no one in the FBI has ever got in this far with one of Wade's people before.'

'And I'm well aware of that, which is the only reason at the moment why he's still working in this department. Oh, and Burke? You can expect a visit from organized crime this evening as it seems that Wade hasn't limited his activities to selling forged bonds. Organized crime takes precedence over us but because we've already got a foot in the door with Caffrey and Wade's accountant, they agreed to let us continue with the operation however, they want access to the live feed.

'So now this thing's gone political and suddenly I've got the division chiefs breathing down my neck so I need to be sure that that convict of yours is worth the time and effort it costs to keep him out of jail. So Peter, either you get Caffrey wired up and send him in tonight or he's back in Super-Max tomorrow. I'm sorry, but I don't have a choice.'

* * *

Peter watched his boss blow out of the briefing room before slamming his hand against the wall in frustration. Sorry, my ass! Peter thought belligerently. The man hadn't listened to a word he'd said. It had taken Peter and his team nearly six months just to get this far and now Hughes was going to risk it all by sending Neal in tonight. And what had happened to 'If he can keep it together, there might just be a place for him here after all?' Neal had kept to his end of the bargain, yet Hughes was willing to throw him to the wolves for the sake of politics.

And while Peter might not trust Neal completely, he did trust his over-inflated sense of self-confidence in his ability to pull off a job when he said he could and Neal had warned him that this one wasn't going to be easy. He hadn't said it couldn't be done, mind you; just that he was going to have to take it real slow and although that was unusual Peter hadn't questioned him too deeply because Neal knew how to manipulate people and work his marks and because since he had become a consultant for the FBI, their rate of case closures had rocketed.

However, organized crime meant Agent Ruiz and suddenly having him on the case only added to Peter's worry for Neal's safety. Ruiz had always been jealous of Peter's success and despised Neal with a vengeance. Peter couldn't trust the man not to put Neal's life at risk if he thought it meant getting him one step close to closing his case. Letting Neal go undercover was one thing, but willingly sacrificing him or deliberately throwing him into harm's way was another thing altogether... But if organized crime was involved then maybe Hughes was right and none of them really had a choice.

He took a few deep, relaxing breaths before putting on his game face and walking back to his office to break the news to Neal.

* * *

'Well? What did he say?'

Neal pushed himself off the desk from where he had been sitting, swinging his legs, anxiously awaiting Peter's return.

'We're going in tonight.'

'Peter!' Neal exclaimed in petulant disbelief.

'I know, I know, but he said we've already had way too much time…'

'Did you tell him that Logan can't be pushed?'

'Yes…'

'Did you tell him that it's taken me weeks to get him to meet me tonight?'

'Yes…'

'Did you tell him… '

'Yes! Yes I told him! I told him everything. I put forward all of your arguments but he wasn't having it. I'm sorry, Neal, but it's got to be tonight.'

'Why? Why now?' Neal asked urgently.

'You know why, Neal. Wade's selling everything and we've got to…'

'No, I understand that part, but that's not what I meant. Why do I have to go tonight?'

'Because it seems that Wade's not been limiting his activity to selling forged bonds. Organized crime has just involved itself and if Hughes doesn't get some sort of resolution on this case then I won't be able to keep you any longer. I'm sorry, Neal, but you need to bring this one home tonight or you're going back to prison in the morning.'

Peter watched as Neal's eyes widened in shock and fear before he bit his lip and turned away.

There was an uncomfortable silence between them as Peter belatedly realized just how harsh and uncaring he had sounded. He grimaced at his thoughtlessness. This was the kid's life he was talking about. If Neal couldn't pull it off tonight, it wasn't just his job he would be losing; it was his freedom, his right to self-determination, his very existence that was on the line. Neal Caffrey was no doubt the most arrogant, self-centered, manipulative, dishonest, untrustworthy and infuriating man he'd ever had the misfortune to be partnered with but he was also the most brilliant, quick-witted, charming, kind, loyal and likeable person that Peter had ever met.

He looked over to where Neal was sitting, his long, clever fingers tapping nervously on his leg, the finely chiselled features of his face now set into a troubled frown, those perfect white teeth worrying at his bottom lip as he concentrated on the current problem. Peter had seen that look on Neal's face before, seen the mesmerizing blue eyes flicking rhythmically back and forth as that brilliant mind with its phenomenal IQ turned over all the possible variables and tried to formulate a plan or strategy to once again get him out of trouble.

'Peter… I'm not sure I can do this tonight.' Neal said, his voice catching slightly at the end.

'Of course you can!' Peter told him in his 'cowboy-up' tone. 'No one can resist the charms of the great Neal Caffrey for more than a few minutes. At least that's what you told me, remember?' He said smirking and raising his eyebrows.

'Except for you.' Neal replied quietly, wide blue eyes staring at him, face now suddenly unreadable.

And for a second, Peter was back in Neal's apartment and any moment now Neal would be dropping to his knees in front of him and Peter couldn't breathe, couldn't look away, couldn't think for all the possibilities inherent in those three words. But then he blinked, breaking eye contact and was able to steer the conversation back to safer waters.

'That's because I know you and it's my job to resist you. I'm here to keep you safe from yourself. Because God knows what you'd get up to otherwise…'

He waited for Neal to acknowledge the rib and come back with some witty rejoinder followed by a cocky grin, but there was only silence and a look of desperate pleading on Neal's face. Peter had only seen that naked and open expression of utter desolation on Neal once before and that was when he had caught him the second time round in Kate's empty apartment, when he realized he had missed her by two days and he had broken out of jail for nothing and was now looking at another four years. He began to get worried.

Worried, because the Neal Caffrey he knew was full of smug smirks and dazzling smiles complete with dimples and flashing white teeth; full of self-confident swagger as he strutted his stuff down June's staircase wearing that ridiculous suit and hat; full of flirty banter and witty repartee as he leant over Peter's shoulder while trying to read a case file, warm puffs of his breath ghosting in Peter's ear, his voice suddenly low, suggestive and obscenely intimate.

Worried, because this nervous and agitated young man in front of him was but a pale imitation of the Neal Caffrey he had grown to like and respect since he had started working for the FBI. He realized that despite all that had happened between them in the last few months, he still considered Neal a friend and it was both disturbing and distressing to see him like this.

'Neal… What's this all about? You've met this guy like, half a dozen times already. He should be eating out of your hand by now. Why is this one so hard for you?'

'I told you yesterday that Logan's different, Peter. He's almost pathologically shy and has no self-esteem to speak of. He has no friends and no social life. He's practically a recluse. Vincent Wade has absolute power over him and I don't know that Logan is even consciously aware of the fact. He's been so browbeaten into submission that he will do anything for the guy. I think… I think something horrible has happened to him, in his past.'

'You think Wade's blackmailing him?'

'Could be, I don't know.'

'We can get him immunity…'

'I haven't got close enough to discuss anything like that yet. He's too paranoid, too afraid, too broken. However, he wants to trust me, I'm sure of it, but I can't push him otherwise he'll bolt. I told you at the start of this that it wasn't going to be easy, that it was going to take me time to get him to believe in me, to let me in. I'm nearly there, I can feel it, but I'm going to need a bit longer. I can do it Peter, I just can't guarantee it will happen tonight.'

And there was that look again; open, unguarded fear and desperation allowing Peter to see a glimpse of Neal as he really was beneath the mask of his confident con-man façade, allowing Peter to see the child-like vulnerability of Neal currently laid bare that made him just want to wrap his arms around the kid and tell him that everything would be alright.

'I don't want to go back to prison…'

Jesus! The pain in Neal's voice was almost unbearable. He reached out and put his hand on top of the kid's head before stroking down the soft, silky hair being careful this time not to tangle his fingers in the long dark strands and then cupped the back of his neck.

Neal jumped at the contact, his body becoming tense and rigid.

'Peter…' He whispered his eyes overly bright and blinking rapidly. 'I can't go back to jail. I just can't.'

'Hey…Don't think about that now. Just… Don't worry, okay?' Peter said trying to reassure him, gently massaging the taut muscle at the base of his skull and looking down into those desperate blue eyes. 'Let's both just get on and do our jobs tonight and then in the morning, if it hasn't worked, we'll sort something out.

'Look, when we started all this, when you asked me to meet you in prison, to get you out, to let you work for me, work with me, I told you that you would belong to me for four years and that I'd take care of you. I meant it then and I mean it now. I won't let anything happen to you. I'll protect you, Neal, I promise.'


	7. Ruiz

Trust and Protection: Discovery

Chapter six: Ruiz

Later that evening Neal was shown into one of the FBI's dimly lit interrogation rooms by an agent he had never met before who closed the door ominously behind them and then proceeded to stand next to it, back against the wall, gun eminently visible even though it was holstered, staring at him in a particularly unfriendly and menacing manner. Neal gave him one of his most charming smiles but it was met with a look that threatened violence if he so much as opened his mouth, so he decided against starting a conversation and settled down to make himself look as comfortable and as relaxed as possible. After all, G-man over there only had power over him if he acted like he was intimidated, so an open posture oozing casual disinterest and lack of concern regarding his surroundings was the way to make him feel off-kilter and/or annoyed, either of which Neal would accept at the moment.

He sat down on one of the two hard plastic chairs in the room before sliding down in the seat, leaning his slim body backwards and lifting his feet up on the battered old wooden table. He linked his fingers together behind his head and crossed his legs at the ankle, his whole persona now radiating an air of relaxed nonchalance.

Hughes had told him to report here for the FBI technical team to come and 'wire him up' before leaving to meet Logan Michaels later on that night. Not that the request was unusual in itself as the enclosed interrogation rooms were quiet and good for testing the sound reception of the wire. But it was just that the techs normally came up to meet him and they set him up in Peter's office with one of the white collar team present to see that he wasn't going do anything stupid, like steal something or leg it out the door as soon as he was off the leash. So it was just a little odd that he was down here on his own.

Neal liked the tech guys; and while they could be considered to be a little geeky and occasionally socially awkward and it was more or less a given that they had no sense of style (not that that was a reason to be rude or unfriendly to anyone, just look at Moz and Peter for example!) the techies were nice to him and laughed at his jokes and treated him with respect and were in awe of him because he was a civilian just like them and he was allowed to go into the field, undercover as though he were a real agent rather than just a desk bound consultant.

But the best thing about the tech guys was that they were the ones who could remove his anklet; legally and without the whole world knowing which meant that Peter wouldn't be after him, chasing him down, shouting at him, telling him how ungrateful and stupid he was and threatening to take him back to prison yet again.

And Neal hated it when Peter shouted at him, when Peter made it clear that he didn't trust him, when Peter was disappointed in him, because Peter's opinion mattered more than anything, except for Kate of course. And while he had cut the anklet several times before he had never really considered running because it would be letting Peter down and betraying Peter's confidence and because he liked working with Peter and flirting with Peter and just being with Peter.

But now, tonight, if he couldn't get Logan to fully trust him or at least trust enough to tell him what Wade was doing with all that money, then he was going to back to prison tomorrow, through no fault of his own, so he might as well run and confirm everything everyone had ever said about him. Because there was no way on Earth he was ever going back to jail even if it meant that Peter would be upset and disappointed and hate him…No way. Not jail. Not after… No! He just couldn't…

The sound of the door opening jerked him back to the present. He remained in his relaxed, reclining pose, turning his head to watch an agent enter the room whose eyes narrowed in distaste as they flickered down to the bulky tracker visible on Neal's left ankle, its small green light flashing and traitorously broadcasting the fact he was a convicted criminal contained within a cage with a two mile radius, nothing more than an asset leashed to an FBI handler.

Neal looked at the clock on the wall and then smiled with a sense of bravado he didn't feel.

'Agent Ruiz, what a pleasant surprise! And they say that government employees are always late. But not you, you're right on time, obviously a cut above the rest! So shall we get started, then? I think you know that I've got a party to get to!' Neal said, giving him his flashiest grin while at the same time flipping his feet down and surreptitiously making sure that the tracker was covered by his pants.

There was only a slight flaring of the nostrils that indicated to Neal that Ruiz still absolutely and positively disliked him. He felt that prickle run down his spine that meant that something unexpected had thrown a spanner into the works of a carefully prepared plan. But he was in an FBI building with Peter just up stairs. How badly wrong could this go? He smiled again. No harm in letting Ruiz think he was any more than a stupid ex-con, after all he was only here because he had been caught.

'One of Vincent Wade's employees has turned up dead; Giovanni Romano, his second in command, which is very convenient for Wade seeing as the guy was supposed to meet me tonight to spill the beans on all of Wade's mafia connections.'

'My condolences to his family but what's that got to do with me and the white collar unit?'

'Plenty actually; you and Wade could be brothers!'

'Wade's a common ignorant thug!' Neal bristled indignantly. 'I'm nothing like him.'

'Oh no? Well let's try these apples out for size… Vincent Wade is low-life scum and a lying piece of shit who's also a criminal and deserves to be put behind bars. Sound like anyone you know, Caffrey?'

'Now that you mention it Agent Ruiz, yes it does… I'm looking right at him! And did you ever think that maybe Romano ended his own life as he couldn't face the thought of talking to you?' Neal said with a beaming smile.

'Don't get cute with me pretty boy. You might be Burke's pet convict but tonight you work for organized crime. My guy was about to turn states evidence but now he's dead. I've been working Wade for months and I'm not about to let the murdering bastard go just because he killed my number one witness so his accountant is the next best thing to get the information from. And fuck me if Hughes doesn't tell me that white collar's already got a man on the inside and then imagine my delight when I find out it's you Caffrey and that you and Peter Burke are gonna be doing my bidding tonight.' Ruiz said smiling nastily.

'Peter's been after Wade for months too and we're going to get evidence of his forged bonds tonight…'

'I don't give a shit about Peter Burke or your forged bonds. I want Wade up on murder one and racketeering charges by tomorrow morning and if you haven't realized it, organized crime takes precedence over any pitiful white collar scheme that you and Burke might have come up with.' Ruiz spat.

'Al Capone was a mob boss yet he was finally put away for tax evasion…'

'Shut up Caffrey and listen good for once because there's been a slight change in your party plans for tonight. You're gonna get Michaels to tell you everything about Wade's operations; people, places, scams…'

'But Michaels is an accountant, he won't know those sorts of details…'

'Yes he will. My intel tells me that he goes everywhere with Wade. Wade trusts him. They're quite the pair, 'special friends' if you will…'

There was a lascivious gleam in Ruiz's eyes.

'Even if that were so, Michaels won't just give me that sort of information, he'll suspect something's up and he'll bolt.'

'Well it will be up to you to persuade him otherwise then won't it? And just in case the incentive of prison doesn't motivate you to do all you can for me I'm putting a wire on you to make sure I get everything you get _and_ a GPS locator so I'll know where you are should you decide the odds aren't looking so good and decide to run.'

'My tracker's not enough for you?' Neal asked frowning.

'Your tracker can be cut as you have shown countless times before. Besides, you know that you can't wear it tonight as Wade's men will frisk everyone going into the hotel but my GPS, unlike Burke's little toy will be placed on the inside.'

Ruiz produced a tiny disc from his pocket that could have easily been mistaken for headache pill except that it was made of metal and glinted ominously in the stark lighting overhead.

'You're not getting free of my leash tonight. So come on Caffrey… Open up and swallow like a good boy and then strip!' Ruiz said, leering down at him.

'I'd expect dinner and flowers before I'd do that on a first date…' Neal said haughtily, his body language making it perfectly clear that he wasn't going to be complying with Ruiz's request.

He consciously willed himself to relax which was easier said than done as Ruiz was making him very uncomfortable with his lewd and suggestive behaviour, his homophobic and not so veiled inferences regarding Neal's sexuality and the way his eyes roamed over Neal's body, the expression in them a mixture of desire and disgust.

Neal shivered as Ruiz leant forward, placing one hand flat on the table in front of Neal, the other shoving the bug towards his face menacingly.

'I'm not going to tell you again. Swallow the device and then get your clothes off or I'll do it for you and I'll rip that expensive shirt right off your back.'

Ruiz picked up his radio and brought it to his mouth without breaking eye contact with Neal.

'Maclaine! Send in Wachowski…'

The door opened admitting a man who was obviously the technical officer dressed as he was and carrying a couple of cases which he put down on the table. No one had told him that he would have to take anything internally and why did Ruiz want him to take his clothes off? The techs normally just placed the wire inside the collar of his shirt. Neal was beginning to feel very apprehensive about this whole set-up and his gaze flicked from Ruiz, to the electronic equipment being set out on the table in front of him and finally to the door behind them which he realized in his panic he hadn't heard being locked after Wachowski had come in.

His mind was so fixated on the relief of having just found himself a potential escape route that he didn't notice that Ruiz was no longer facing him. But then suddenly there was a blur of movement in his peripheral vision and before he could react his head was slammed down onto the table in front of him.

For a second he saw nothing but stars but then he felt a fist curling into his hair wrenching his head around to the side. Pain and panic both suddenly spiked as Ruiz spoke harshly into his ear.

'I said I wasn't going to tell you again.'

And then for a split second he wasn't in the FBI building in New York with protection in the form of Peter just a few floors above him, he was back in prison with another fist tangled in his hair and he was being dragged backwards and then slammed into a wall, booted feet were kicking his ankles apart and a large, rough hand was snaking around his waist, unbuttoning his pants, pushing them down over his slim hips and thighs, filthy fingers pinching and probing his backside…

_No__…_

He could feel his heart thumping so hard it was threatening to burst out of his chest, hear his breath sounds rasping in and out of his throat, sense the churning of his stomach that indicated he was going to lose what little lunch he had eaten today. He started struggling which only made the pain worse. Ruiz pulled Neal up by his hair and then slammed his head down on the table again.

'Don't fuck with me, Caffrey…'

Ruiz's voice brought him sharply back to the present.

'Okay, I'll do it. Just…Just let go of me.'

He felt the pain lessen in his scalp, felt the pressure lift off the side of his face, felt the shuddering relief of that temporary reprieve of knowing that he wasn't going to be restrained and forced just yet…

He sat up slowly, stretched the kinks out of his neck and then ran his fingers through his hair, trying to keep his cool and doing his best not to let Ruiz see just how much the violent harassment had affected him.

It had been weeks since he'd had any dreams or flashbacks reminding him of… No! He wasn't going to go there, he told himself firmly. He pushed the memories away, buried them deep within his subconscious and concentrated on his breathing; _in and out, deep and slow, regular as clockwork…_

He felt the sweat prickling in his arm pits and between his shoulder blades, felt his heart pounding…_in and out, deep and slow, regular as clockwork… _He was trying to contain the panic yet it didn't seem to be working. He didn't have control over it. He didn't have control over anything in his life anymore. It was becoming more and more difficult to breathe and he knew that if he didn't do something soon he would collapse from a full blown panic attack.

_In and out, deep and__ slow, regular as clockwork…In and… out, d-deep and…deep and…and…_Oh God! He had to get out of here. He couldn't bear for Ruiz to touch him again. He also knew that there was no way that he could do what Ruiz had asked of him this evening. Michaels would never give Wade up like that and despite Peter's promises to protect him, Ruiz would manage somehow to put him back in jail and Neal couldn't allow that to happen.

The unlocked door seemed the most likely possibility. Neal's emotionally overcharged brain ran the numbers for him, but the answers didn't just pop into his head like they normally did; it was like his mind was working in slow motion and he couldn't make sense of the results. The odds seemed okay and he would have the element of surprise working in his favour and at the moment that was good enough. It was certainly a risk he was willing to take. _In and out, deep and slow…_

'Do you have a glass of water?' Neal asked his voice back to a conversational tone now that he had made an escape plan.

'Caffrey…' Ruiz warned.

'Look, I won't be able to swallow the device unless I have something to drink.' Neal explained earnestly. 'It'll get stuck in my throat, you see. I nearly choked on some advil last week and Peter had to thump me on the back until I had coughed up the pills and that made me throw up.'

Ruiz looked at him murderously making it very clear that had he been in charge of Neal last week, not only would he have done a lot more than just thump Neal on the back, he would have let him choke on his own vomit too.

'Wachowski! Go get some water for Caffrey.'

With his stomach feeling like it was in his chest and his heart beat loud in his ears, Neal held his breath waiting until the technical officer had just started to open the door before he made his move. He leapt up onto the chair and then jumped onto the table, using it as a springboard to launch himself into the air, flipping mid leap so that he landed feet first on the floor, his momentum still carrying him forward as he slid on his back between Wachowski and the door frame. Then he was pushing himself up and a split-second later was off running down the corridor with Ruiz screaming obscenities behind him.

He would have made it, but hadn't figured in the sheer solid bulk of Agent Maclaine who tackled him painfully to the ground. A split second later Ruiz was there again and then there was a knee pressing down hard on his spine and a hand was on his head and he was being pulled up by his hair, feet scrabbling on the floor as he tried to get purchase, body flailing and twisting, both arms flying up over his shoulders, his hands grabbing onto the fist that was tangled in his hair trying to lessen the pain in his scalp as he was dragged backwards into the interrogation room again.

He heard the door slam shut behind him and then he was flung face first into a wall. The fist was still knotted in his hair, forcing his head back, his neck bent at an unnatural angle making it difficult for him to breathe. He should have taken Peter's advice and got his hair cut short and then they wouldn't have been able to catch him like this.

He started to struggle and felt Ruiz wrap his fingers even more tightly in his hair before yanking his head back so violently he thought his neck was going to snap. But it didn't stop him moving, if anything he fought even harder. It didn't matter that it felt as though his hair was being pulled out by the roots, it only mattered that he got away before his pants were pushed down…

He suddenly felt his right wrist being encircled and then gasped as his whole arm was wrenched around and pinned high up behind his back, his thumb forcibly extended and bent so awkwardly that he felt it might have been dislocated. The excruciating pain stopped his struggling immediately. There was no way he could even think about moving now.

He raised himself up onto his toes trying to relieve the pressure on his arm but then a booted foot viciously kicked his legs apart, catching him on the bony prominences of his ankles, upsetting his already precarious balance due to the unnatural curve of his spine as his head was continually being forced backwards finally causing him to fall and for one horrific moment his total body weight was suspended entirely on his one twisted arm, joints extended beyond their normal range of movement and pulled in directions they were never meant to go. Neal screamed as pain exploded in his shoulder and flashbacks burst into his mind.

* * *

Peter was just finishing up some paper-work in his office when the phone rang.

'Burke!' He answered automatically, his thoughts still on the report in front of him.

'Agent Burke this is Agent Maclaine. I'm downstairs in the interrogation suite. FBI consultant Neal Caffrey has just tried to escape…'

'What?'

Peter dropped his pen on the desk. Now the phone call had his full attention.

'I managed to apprehend him, but he's with Agent Ruiz now and Caffrey doesn't seem to want to cooperate with him. I think you should get down here. Now, Sir.'

'I'm on my way. Thanks, Maclaine.' He said slamming the phone down and leaving the office immediately.

Peter was fuming as he strode along the nearly deserted corridors on his way to try and sort out Caffrey's latest mess. He knew Neal had been upset this evening what with the threat of returning to prison being held over his head, but Peter had thought he had got over that after the talk they'd had, after the promises Peter had made. But it seemed as if that was just another con on Neal's part and Peter felt angry and betrayed that he had been deceived, not to mention a little embarrassed that he had fallen for Neal's con-man act yet again because he always imagined himself smarter than that and then if he were honest with himself, he also felt hurt that Neal still thought so little of him that he wouldn't hesitate to use him as a mark if the need should arise. That then brought back all the memories of those two nights of abruptly halted passion in Neal's apartment and how he had been taken in by his promises then too.

Peter shook his head both in disbelief at Neal's deception and grudging awe at the skill with which he portrayed with absolute perfection the picture of innocence and vulnerability. How could anyone possibly fail to respond emotionally to those huge, overly bright eyes that slowly and hesitantly raised themselves to his, that slight tremble of his mouth and chin, the way he anxiously bit his bottom lip as he tried to follow Peter's instructions to 'cowboy up' but never quite succeeded, the look of desperation and pleading on his face that was more explicit than any words ever could be and just silently cried out 'protect me because I'm scared and alone', that poor little lost boy in pain look that he had mastered so totally, completely and perfectly.

Had that been his plan all along? To ingratiate himself with Peter, to make himself useful to the team and to the FBI, to make Peter look so good that he couldn't possibly let Neal go? To make Peter like him, respect him, care for him, to want to protect him to such an extent that Peter would do anything in his power to stop him from ever being sent back to prison again? Was that part of the reason Neal had invited him back to his rooms and tried to have sex with him?

And Neal had done all of those things. He had made himself indispensable to the white collar unit by using his unique set of skills and experience to orchestrate plans that no other member of his team would ever have thought up. And while Peter had always respected Neal's smarts and abilities long before he even met him, he now respected Neal as a person too. Neal's individuality, his character, charm and wit, had grown on Peter, so much so that he really did consider the man as his partner and more importantly his friend.

But just as he thought that he could actually trust Neal, just as he thought that Neal really trusted him, Neal had thrown it all back in his face, had tried to seduce him, then rejected him and now had done what Peter had always feared he would and had finally made the decision to run.

He reached the interrogation suite in a foul mood where Agent Maclaine greeted him with what looked like relief on his face and then nodded at the room in front of them. Peter didn't need to be told twice. He was still angry at Neal's apparent betrayal and now just wanted to be the person that Neal obviously thought he was; be the FBI handler whose asset has just gone rogue and then been apprehended, shout at him, threaten him and ask him just what the hell he thought he was doing before tearing him a new one. But there was also the little matter of Ruiz who was bound to complicate things for the both of them.

Peter opened the door to see Ruiz immobilizing Neal with one hand on his collar, the other forcing Neal's right arm up behind his back and pressing his chest into the wall in front of him. Neal's legs were spread apart, his head was turned to the side and his neck and spine were arching backwards as though trying to relieve some of the pressure on his arm. His clothes were wrinkled and dirty and his hair was a complete mess and there was the unmistakable smell of vomit in the room. His mind flashed back two months ago to the picture of Neal standing white faced in his apartment. He had thrown up then too.

'Ruiz, you can let him go now…'

At the sound of his voice, Neal turned his head.

'Peter!'

And under the messy dark hair that had fallen in front of wide blue eyes, Peter saw such profound relief on that youthful face that for a moment he thought Neal was going to cry and the protective instincts within him became almost overwhelming. But then the expression on Neal's face grew shuttered and in the next instant morphed into that smooth con-man's mask leaving Peter bewildered and adrift on a sea of his own turbulent emotions wondering whether Neal would ever be able to be totally honest with him and how many more times he was going to let himself be used and taken for a fool by this man.

'No fucking way Burke. This little bastard refused both the wire and the GPS and then tried to escape.'

'Are you here to join in the fun?' Neal asked, giving him the blinding fake smile that he used to con people with.

A moment ago, Peter had felt so protective towards Neal that he would have kissed him if that would have got rid of the pain in those expressive blue eyes. But now, with Neal mocking him and accusing him of being like Ruiz, just because they were both FBI agents, he felt even more angry with him, if that were indeed possible.

'Shut up Neal, you're in enough trouble as it is and Ruiz, for crying out loud, let him go…'

'I told you, no way Burke, I want Wade tonight and this little shit's my ticket in. I'm not letting him out of my sight until he's got my leash on him.' Ruiz said giving Neal's arm a vicious jerk for good measure.

Neal yelped and for a second the con-man's facade was dropped and Peter saw desperation and fear on his face.

'He won't be any use to anyone if you've broken his arm… Besides, he's got a tracking anklet on him. Wherever he goes we can find him.'

'The anklet can be cut as you well know. He swallows my GPS or I phone Hughes now and tell him to book the bus back to Super-Max tonight. The bug's on the table. Your choice…'

'Okay, okay... Let me talk to Caffrey…'

'Talk all you want, but I'm not letting go until that bug's in his belly.'

'And it will be but I want to talk to him first. In private.'

He put his hand up to forestall the objections he knew were coming.

'I'm not asking you to leave the room, just release Caffrey and go and wait over there by the door. In fact, stand guard over the door, so that he can't escape again.'

Peter realized too late that he shouldn't have goaded Ruiz because now Neal was going to pay the price. Ruiz made sure Peter was watching as he let go of Neal but not before giving him one final vindictive push causing the side of Neal's head to smack into the wall. Neal gasped as he was released, his whole body sagging forwards, his head resting on his left forearm, his right arm held straight and stiff and close into his side.

Peter crossed the room in a just a few strides and didn't even let him get his breath back before starting in on him.

'Neal…' He whispered furiously. 'Just tell me you didn't try and run.'

'I had to. He wanted me to take off my clothes. He threatened to rip my shirt, Byron's shirt, Peter!'

'You tried to escape because you didn't want to take your shirt off?' Peter hissed in disbelief.

'No, not just because of that. He threatened me with prison and then wanted me to swallow a GPS tracking bug. You didn't tell me about internal monitors…' Neal said looking up at him reproachfully.

'Your anklet's going to come off and Ruiz wanted a way to keep tabs on you. I mean, it's not unreasonable is it? You've run before and it's the only way Hughes could get Ruiz to keep us both on the case.'

'I don't want to swallow the GPS…' Neal said petulantly.

'And I don't care what you want at the moment.' Peter told him.

'You never care what I want.' Neal muttered sulkily.

'What?'

'It's against my human rights to have something put inside me.'

'You gave up your rights when you decided to break out of prison.' Peter said exasperated. 'Damn it Neal! You've put us both in a very difficult situation now.'

'Burke…This is all very touching; having a heart-to-heart with your pet convict, but if you don't get that GPS down him pronto, I'm gonna be on the phone to Hughes…' Ruiz reminded him from his position at the door.

'For the love of… Ruiz! Just give me a minute.'

'A minute's all you got and I'm counting.'

'Jesus!' Peter swore as he turned back to face his wayward charge who was now using his left hand to try and restore some sort of order to his messed up hair, pushing his fingers through it then smoothing it down repeatedly.

'He was going to rip my shirt, Peter. My lovely fine cotton, pale blue, expensive shirt.' Neal complained in a high-pitched voice. 'And it's one of my favorites…'

Peter looked at Neal in bewilderment. And if he didn't know any better, if he hadn't just seen Neal not more than two hours ago with all his faculties intact, he would have sworn that the kid was high. Alarm bells were going off left, right and center in his head. It wasn't like Neal to be anything less than cool, calm and collected even if he was facing the danger of having a loaded gun pointed at his chest. And he hadn't been in danger here, not really, not in the middle of an FBI building with Peter just a few floors upstairs, so why then was Neal fussing and obsessing over his clothes unless it was all an act, another con, but for what reason?

He had been so angry and indignant at Neal's betrayal, he hadn't stopped to get the other side of the story. Maybe something else, something he hadn't considered had happened here. He was just about to ask what the hell was going on when he got his first real look at Neal since he had come into the room and his eyes widened in shock at what he saw.

The kid looked dreadful. His face was gray and sweaty and he was shaking so badly he could hardly stand up. His eyes were glazed and glassy and he seemed to be having trouble focusing on anything. Peter could see his carotid pulse flickering at the base of his neck at a much more rapid rate than would be expected for a man of his young age and the same went for his respiratory rate, in fact it almost seemed that Neal was panting, his chest was moving up and down so fast. His vest was dirty and his hair was all over the place. How could he have missed all this? Yet Peter had seen this before; up in Neal's apartment, when they had been making out, when Peter had inadvertently gone too far. But that had been a trick on Neal's part hadn't it? A nefarious plot for some unknown gain using him and his feelings for Neal… And Peter had shut him down by walking out.

'Are you okay?' He asked hesitantly, putting a hand on Neal's uninjured shoulder.

Neal flinched at the contact and Peter's eyes narrowed in concern. Neal was acting as though he had been hit. Had Ruiz actually done more than just rough him up a bit? Maclaine had called him for a reason. Could Ruiz have physically assaulted Neal?

'I'm fine… I…Can I sit down Peter?' Neal asked breathlessly.

'Yeah, I think that's a good idea.'

He guided Neal to one of the chairs and helped the shaky young man to lower himself down onto the seat, mindful of his sore arm.

'30 seconds, Burke.' Ruiz threatened from across the room.

'Neal…The GPS… Will you take it?' Peter urged him.

He removed the little silver disc from its plastic packet and held it out.

Neal glanced up at him, a hurt look visible on his face, disbelief and distrust in his eyes before pouting and turning his head away.

Great! Now Neal was sulking. He could be such a child at times that he just made Peter want to put him over his knee and spank him senseless.

'I meant what I said today, Neal, I'll protect you and take care of you, but the GPS… It's a deal breaker for Ruiz. I'll help you all I can, but you have to help me first.'

He held out the metal disc again.

'Trust me…' Peter whispered, holding his breath as Neal's blue eyes searched his face. And they must have found something they could believe in because Neal suddenly lowered his head and nodded.

Peter breathed out a sigh of relief and put the disc down in front of Neal.

'Water…'

'Right, yeah! We don't want a repeat of that advil episode. It stinks of sick already in here…'

Neal picked up the disc with shaking fingers and managed to put it on his tongue at his third attempt. He reached for the plastic cup that Wachowski had left of the table right before his escape attempt, but got Peter's hand instead.

'You don't look too steady.' He said gently, wrapping his fingers around Neal's trembling hand and squeezing softly. 'Perhaps I should…?'

He picked up the cup and waited, tacitly asking Neal's permission to continue.

Neal hesitated for a second before raising his eyes to Peter once more. The con-man's mask was gone leaving Neal more vulnerable than Peter had seen since that day he had been caught trying to steal medical records from the Howser clinic and had been drugged out of his mind_; 'you're the only one I trust…'_

'It'll be okay, Neal, I promise.'

Neal nodded again and gulped down the water offered to him and with it the GPS, now effectively binding him to a new master.

'Fucking finally…' Ruiz jeered before opening the door and motioning for Wachowski to come in once more.

Peter watched the technician approach before being told that he would need access to Neal's chest to site the wire.

Neal nodded, indicating he had heard the request yet remained slumped in the chair where Peter had left him, making no move to start undressing. Less than five minutes ago the horror he had remembered from the flashbacks caused by being grabbed and restrained had caused such a heightened fight or flight response in his body that had he had access to a sidearm, despite his insistence that he didn't like guns, he would have had no hesitation in shooting Ruiz through the head, so strong was his fear of being touched again. But now he knew he was safe (because Peter was here and Peter had promised to protect him), the adrenaline that had been coursing through his veins providing that extra speed and strength he had needed to escape from Ruiz was fast dissipating from his body leaving him energy depleted and exhausted.

'This is your last warning, Caffrey. If you don't get your clothes off right now I swear I am personally taking you back to Super-Max tonight…'

'Oh, cut the bullshit, Ruiz!' Peter angrily interrupted Ruiz's posturing. 'We both know you're not about to put Caffrey back in prison because it's impossible for you to get near Wade without his help. No one in the FBI has ever managed to get access to one of Wade's inner circle before Neal came along and if he doesn't go undercover tonight then you know you can kiss your hopes of an early arrest goodbye. You're quite happy to use the information he has collected and exploit the contacts he has made, not to mention take over my investigation and ruin six months of work by me and my team so stop threatening Caffrey, get off his case and just give me a minute to sort out my consultant as I see fit.'

Peter was breathing heavily at the end of his impassioned little speech and also trying very hard to control his anger which was directed at Ruiz due to his continual abuse and harassment of Neal. So the guy was a convicted criminal, was cool and cocky, had a smart-ass mouth on him and occasionally bent the rules (and sometimes the law) for his own personal gain but he still didn't deserve to be continually ridiculed, insulted, put-down and threatened…

'Peter…'

He looked towards the young man who had turned his life upside down since coming into it seven years ago and saw warmth and gratitude shining out from those stunning blue eyes. But there was something else too; it was as though Neal was proud of him for standing up to Ruiz on his behalf and as had been happening more and more recently a feeling of tenderness towards Neal stole over him.

'Did you just say something…nice about me?' Neal asked his voice pure innocence although his eyes were sparkling mischievously.

Peter snorted and then grudgingly smiled. The kid must be feeling better if he was able to start with the banter again. There was certainly more color in his face and his body had stopped that awful shaking but the boundless energy he associated with Neal was missing and a Neal that wasn't in constant motion was a very weird thing to witness.

It also brought to the surface the other times Neal had been completely still like the few seconds after he had been shot at before they both realized it was the Bible that had take the bullet and when they were trapped in the airless comic room when Neal collapsed, neck veins bulging and then had stopped breathing, his lips turning blue and his pulse flickering madly under his jaw desperately trying to restore oxygenated blood to his brain. Both times Peter's stomach was churning in his chest and he could hear his own blood rushing in his ears because the thought of Neal being injured or even worse was something he couldn't even contemplate.

'Odds were it had to happen sooner or later…' He said grudgingly.

Neal beamed at him; dimples in both cheeks, laughter lines around eyes shining with delight; a genuine smile of pleasure at the simple act of being complimented.

And suddenly Peter got the feeling that Neal hadn't had many people stick up for him before or really appreciate that brilliant mind of his or even just give him a kind word now and again and maybe all of his antics and criminal activities in the past were just a way to get people to notice him.

Even now, he regularly got himself into trouble by disobeying orders or not following protocol, but despite having had his tracker cut on several occasions he had always come back and Peter wondered whether all of his shenanigans were just another way for him to garner attention; like an abused or neglected child deliberately goading an adult to violence because any attention was better than being ignored. Had Neal been acting-up all this time just to get Peter to notice him? Was the key to controlling Neal's behaviour and keeping him on the straight and narrow and therefore out of prison as simple as taking an interest in him?

'See? Was that so hard?' Neal said still smiling. 'I knew it would happen one day…'

'Yeah, and if you want it to happen again any time soon, you'll take your clothes off without complaining and let them wire you up so we can finally go and do our job tonight.' Peter told him gruffly.

And the smile was still there on Neal's face but now it didn't reach his eyes and Peter knew he was being conned again. He saw Neal's Adam's apple bob several times as he swallowed repeatedly and noticed how he winced while moving his right arm but Neal didn't hesitate to obey the orders given to him. Peter watched spell-bound as Neal's long, slender fingers started unbuttoning his vest...


	8. Neal and Peter

Trust and Protection: Discovery

Chapter seven: Neal and Peter

Half an hour later they were on their way to June's place to get a clean suit for Neal before driving to Wade's hotel to meet with the accountant, Logan Michaels. Neal had been a little quiet since leaving the FBI building however, Peter put that down to his stressful encounter with Agent Ruiz. But then Neal seemed to be gently rocking in his seat and then he twitched, then sighed, then squirmed as though trying to get into a comfortable position. Thirty seconds later he did it again. Peter glanced over at him in both annoyance and concern to see Neal wriggling and writhing in his seat.

'What's the matter with you? You haven't been able to sit still since you got in the car. You're like a six year old with ants in your pants!'

'It itches.' Neal said grimacing before rubbing his body hard against the side of the seat.

'Excuse me?' Peter said, suddenly apprehensive about the conversation and where it might be leading.

'The wire; where they stuck it on me, it's all uncomfortable and itchy.'

'Oh…' Peter said, relieved.

Neal turned to look at him, that wide-eyed and innocent expression on his face which Peter had learned over the months didn't tend to bode well for him.

'What did you think I meant when I started talking about itching?'

Peter could hear the laughter in his voice and knew that Neal had probably guessed just where his mind had taken him and he wanted to call his bluff and mention something about STDs and have the last word in the conversation for once but Neal was so fastidious about his personal hygiene and obsessive about cleanliness in general it was hard to imagine how that scenario could ever come about. And while it was true that Neal flirted with anything that had a pulse, Peter hadn't known him go home with anyone since he had been working for the FBI, not of course that Peter kept tabs on Neal's whereabouts every second of the day or night, but even if he had followed through with one of the many women (or men) who were constantly batting their eyelashes at him he was sure that Neal would have used protection both to ensure his own safety and that of the lady (man) in question so really, Neal was the last person who would ever complain of that sort of itching!

And so he was just going to ignore Neal's question and reply with the very mature 'nothing' which would make Neal smile even more because it was so blatantly untrue but by this time the idea of Neal, naked and having sex was front and center in his mind and he could hardly breathe let alone speak.

He shivered at the thought of Neal's pristine and slender body thrusting into wet heat beneath him, his normally immaculate hair now a complete disaster all mussed and falling forward into his eyes, face and chest flushed with arousal and damp with sweat, his breathy little moans and whimpers indicating his desire, his pleasure and culminating in the ecstasy of orgasm…

Peter switched on the air conditioning and angled the vents so they blew directly onto his face. Jesus! What on Earth was the matter with him? He was a happily married, more or less straight man with a very active and satisfying sex life who'd never even had so much as a stray thought about another guy before Neal had come along.

And it seemed that his subconscious was no longer satisfied with just a little harmless crush on Neal because it was now imagining him in x-rated, pornographic sexually compromising situations and why, in the name of all that was holy, did he have to find them so incredibly stimulating?

Yet the idea of Neal actually doing any of those things, of spending the night with some pretty young woman or handsome, muscular jock paradoxically made him feel extremely uncomfortable and for the life of him he couldn't understand why. Actions spoke louder than words and Neal's actions had made it very clear, despite his words to the contrary, that he wasn't attracted to Peter, that he didn't want to have sex with him, didn't even want to be touched by him and it had been Peter himself that had called it off, ignoring Neal's desperate and pitiful pleading for another chance so if Neal had found someone else what right did he have to even care, let alone be upset and jealous.

Peter had told Neal that he would own him for the next four years, which Neal had agreed to willingly and with that ownership came rules, regulations, responsibilities that Neal had to abide by and live up to but also certain understandings of a more nebulous nature.

Neal had to understand that this was his last chance; if he messed up again then Peter would have no choice but to throw him back in prison. He also had to understand that Peter had access to and would be regularly looking at his tracking data to check that he was keeping to his side of the bargain to remain on the straight and narrow. And another understanding was that Peter expected Neal to trust him and also expected that Neal be trustworthy in return.

But there wasn't an understanding about Neal's right to a private life. No matter how much at times he both looked and acted like a kid, he was in fact a grown man with sexual desires and needs just the same as any other man, himself included, which meant that he could sleep with whomever he pleased whenever he pleased, and as long as it occurred within his two mile radius, Peter wasn't able to say or do anything about it.

The trouble was that Peter did care and much more it seemed than he liked to admit. It had been two months since he had kissed Neal, undressed him, stroked and caressed his smooth, pale skin, two months since Neal had kissed him back, rocked and rubbed slowly against him, dropped to his knees and blown him yet the experience was still as fresh in his memory as if it had happened yesterday.

At odd moments throughout the day whenever he wasn't actively concentrating his mind would re-play those memories, take him back to the start of the two encounters when Neal, true to his word, did seem to be enjoying himself; face flushed, pupils dilated, body hard with arousal. And then Peter would feel his own cock start to fill and would become flustered and embarrassed at why he couldn't stop thinking about wanting to have sex with Neal…

'I thought you had some chronic dermatological condition the way you were wriggling and fidgeting!'

It came out a bit more brusquely than he had intended but Neal seemed oblivious.

'I don't know what stuff they used to glue it to my skin, but it's itching like the devil. In fact I think I might be allergic…'

'It was standard medical adhesive and you're not allergic.'

'How do you know I'm not allergic? I've never had anything stuck to me before and I've got very sensitive skin.' Neal said indignantly.

Peter snorted.

'You get hives and swelling if you're allergic. Besides, I've seen your medical records; you might look as though you'd blow away in a stiff breeze but your appearance is a fake just like everything else about you. Underneath those expensive, tailored suits that outline that lean little body of yours, you're as strong as an ox and you're not allergic to anything.'

Neal turned to face him, wide-eyed and mocking.

'Why Peter! You called me strong. That's two compliments in one day! And you noticed my body…'

'You can't help but notice it; those pants and vests you wear are form-fitting!'

And even to his own ears, he sounded panic-stricken and slightly hysterical.

'But they look good on me, don't you think? Neal said softly.

There was a long, uncomfortable pause as Peter desperately tried to think of something to say that wouldn't sound as though he noticed every little detail about Neal like some obsessive stalker or alternatively that he had been lusting after him and was just waiting for the chance to get into his pants. After all, Neal had had his chance; two chances in fact and he had been the one to push Peter away both times so why did he think it was okay now to come on to him and flirt shamelessly, the little prick-tease?

'I wouldn't know.' Peter snapped, keeping his eyes firmly on the road. 'I'm not the sort of man who notices what his wife's wearing let alone what clothes are on guys and I certainly don't look at other men.'

Jesus! He couldn't be any more in denial or come across as more homophobic if he tried! And Neal wasn't stupid, he would have picked up that Peter deliberately mentioned Elizabeth to emphasize that he was a happily married, heterosexual man who didn't look at other men in the locker room because it would somehow make him appear gay. Not that there was anything wrong with being gay, it's just that he wasn't… and that was exactly what all secretly homophobic men said. And it wasn't true either! Peter hadn't been lying when he told Neal on their first day together that the FBI policy, and coincidently his, regarding homosexuality was 'we don't ask; we don't care'. It also wasn't true that he hadn't noticed just how good Neal's form-fitting suits looked on him or wondered how he would look with them off…

But he didn't want to admit that to Neal because then Neal would give him that knowing smirk like he'd caught him with his hand in the cookie jar and because Peter didn't want to be just another one of Neal's admirers, because Neal used and conned and manipulated everyone around him as Peter had found out to his cost, which somehow made them less valuable, less worthy. And even though Peter no longer had a physical relationship with Neal, he still wanted Neal to respect him, to see him as an intellectual equal, to look forward to working with him, to value his opinion and to ultimately trust him completely. He also didn't want Neal to know just how much he had been hurt by Neal's refusal to have sex with him.

Of course he would have to be blind or an idiot not to realize that Neal was an attractive man, but there was so much more to him that he kept hidden from the majority of people; his intelligence, his sense of humor, his exuberance and enthusiasm, the child-like wonder with which he viewed the world, his loyalty, determination, passion and vulnerability…and that was the Neal Peter wanted to see, to discover and get to know. That and the fact that he hadn't quite worked out how he did feel about Neal after being rejected by him except for that overwhelming desire he had to protect him.

Peter slid the Taurus into a parking place outside June's mansion. He switched off the engine then turned around to face Neal. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then seemed to think better of it before sighing and then sucking on his lip. Neal looked at him curiously.

'Peter?'

'You'd tell me if something was bothering you, wouldn't you?'

'Don't be silly, I tell you that every day! I tell you that my tracker chafes my ankle and that I think a two mile radius is not nearly large enough for a person of my artistic needs. I tell you that the coffee in the FBI building is atrocious and that the suit that you're wearing should be outlawed…'

'Neal…' Pater warned, then sighed again. 'I meant if something was upsetting you, or if someone was hurting you or threatening you…'

'Peter, what's this about?'

'What happened today with Ruiz? Did he hurt you?'

'Apart from him nearly breaking my arm, pulling my hair out by the roots and smacking my head against the wall, you mean?'

'You tried to escape!'

'Did it occur to you that that might have been the reason why I tried to escape?'

Neal had a point, but Peter didn't want to get into that as then the discussion would be about Ruiz and not Neal.

'Did he hit you?'

'What, nearly breaking my face and giving me a skull fracture wasn't enough?'

'Did he say anything to you then, threaten you…'

'You know he did, you were there when he threatened to send me back to prison and he threatened to rip my shirt…'

'Jesus, Neal! Can you think of something other than your clothes for just one second?'

Peter had found over the course of the months he and Neal had been working together that while Neal lied practically every day and almost as a matter of course, Neal would never lie to him if he was asked a direct question. Of course, that question had to be worded extremely carefully using precise and very specific language otherwise Neal would be able to wiggle his way around telling the truth. And sometimes Peter didn't really mind when Neal exaggerated or told tall tales but not today. Today he needed to know that Neal really was okay.

'Before I came into the interrogation room, did Ruiz hit you, kick you, strike you or touch you in any way other than those you have already told me about?' He said slowly and patiently.

'No.' Neal admitted grudgingly.

'Okay, good. That wasn't so difficult was it? Let's move on…Has anyone in the past ever threatened you or hurt you?'

'Are you serious? I was convicted for bond forgery! I've made a lot of enemies in my life. What do you think?'

'You didn't answer the question, Neal. Has anyone in the past ever hurt you?'

'Why are you asking me this now?'

'You still haven't answered the question.'

'And I'm not going to until you tell me why you want to know.'

'Because something happened to you today Neal…'

'You're absolutely right it did! I was physically assaulted by an FBI agent. A law enforcement officer, Peter; someone you're supposed to be able to trust to uphold the law. And I didn't break the law so forgive me if I'm not in a particularly trusting mood to answer any of your questions right now.'

Peter heard the righteous indignation in Neal's tone and recognized it as one of Neal's tricks for changing the topic of a conversation in which he didn't want to participate. By making Peter uncomfortable and on the defensive they would then have to discuss Ruiz's overly rough treatment of Neal leading to a valid justification of Neal's distrust for law enforcement officers, which by association would include Peter. And if Neal didn't trust Peter, he was hardly likely to divulge any sensitive personal information to him thus stopping Peter's current line of questioning.

Clever, Neal, Peter thought grimly, but not clever enough!

'You're right, Neal. Ruiz shouldn't have hurt you like that and I'll certainly have words with him tonight, but you know how it'll play if we report it; he'll say he was restraining you because you tried to escape and he is legally within his rights to do that.'

'But he shouldn't have been able to hurt me.'

'No he shouldn't have.' Peter said softly.

'You said you'd protect me Peter, you said you'd take care of me.'

Ah! Neal had switched tactics. Now he was playing the guilt card.

'And that's exactly what I'm trying to do Neal. I'm worried about you.'

'Well you needn't be. I'm fine.'

Those words again; Neal had used them before, up in his apartment when he had been shivering and hyperventilating. He had been lying then too.

'No Neal, I don't think you are. And I'm concerned about whether you'll be able to keep your head in the game tonight, especially seeing as how important the outcome is and that your freedom is dependant on your success.'

'So you're not really worried about me then just what'll happen if I can't get the accountant to talk. What would be worse? That I'll fail and make you look bad in front of Ruiz or that I'll fail and I'll run?'

'Stop it! Of course I'm worried about you. I spent three years chasing you, watching you and learning everything about you which means that by now I know how you'll act in any given situation and what happened with Ruiz today didn't even come close to how the Neal Caffrey I know would behave. You were all over the place this evening. You were shaking so bad you couldn't even stand up. Something set you off and I want to know what it is. And you understand if you run, I'll just come after you again and this time you'll be back in prison for the long haul…'

'How could I possibly forget when you remind me about it at every opportunity?'

'Hey! You're the one who brought it up this time.'

'Because that's what you're always worried about. Plus you obviously don't know as much about me as you think you do if you haven't realized by now that if I want something badly enough, I'll find a way to make it happen. I could have run at any time, Peter. I've stayed because I wanted to. And you must also know by now that whatever else is going on in my life, it won't prevent me from concentrating 100% on the job in hand. So for the last time, there's nothing wrong with me and there's certainly nothing I want to talk about…'

'Well you know what, Neal? I don't care what you want. When I agreed to get you out of prison, you agreed that I would own for four years and that means that I'm entitled to any information I want about you: where you've been, what money you've spent and who you've slept with.'

'Well you know what, Peter? You may own me for the next four years and be allowed to track my movements, restrict my spending and deny me the right to my privacy, but you don't own my past and you're certainly not entitled to any information about the last four years of my life.'

Neal was breathing heavily, his blue eyes flashing in anger, his face flushed and radiating resentment, his body tense and demeanour hostile yet Peter had never seen him look more beautiful and it was all he could do to stop himself grabbing Neal's head and kissing him into submission. Puzzled and perplexed by both his very physical reaction to Neal's uncharacteristic antagonism and to how their conversation had become so adversarial so quickly, Peter remained silent and watched as Neal got himself back under control which was unusual in itself because Neal was never out of control in the first place.

Peter could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times that Neal had raised his voice since starting work at the FBI and most of those involved situations where Neal perceived something to be unfair or when he was being blamed for something that was not his fault, but very rarely was he confrontational. He responded too well to authority not to mention his dislike of the exceedingly real possibility of violence against him if he did get into an argument. So why was he being so evasive and antagonistic now?

Neal had been fine until his altercation with Ruiz and Peter knew that this wasn't the first time that the charming and quixotic con had been roughed-up. In fact, since coming to work for the FBI, Neal had been punched, shot at, drugged, tasered, held hostage and nearly suffocated yet none of those things had caused the loss of control that Peter had witnessed today.

Neal had also been pretty much back to normal the moment they got in the car and it was only when he had started to ask about the possibility of Neal being hurt did he become evasive, belligerent and then overtly hostile. Neal's furious last words sprung into the forefront of Peter's mind…

'_You may own me for the next four years but you don't own my past… You're not entitled to any information about the last four years of my life…'_

But Neal had been in prison for the last four years. So was that heated little speech merely Neal trying to put a point across because he was pissed off that he'd been reminded once more of the restrictive terms of his release or, Peter swallowed uncomfortably, had Neal just given him the answer to the question he had repeatedly been asking. Oh God…

'Did something happen to you in prison, Neal?' He asked quietly.

And there it was; that extra blink that no one else would even notice; the subtle tell that confirmed to Peter that he was on the right track and for once he wished that he didn't know Neal so well, that he hadn't spent all those hours working with him so closely that he knew every little detail about his face, every raise of a perfectly shaped and groomed eyebrow, every quirk and twitch of those smooth and pouty lips, every one of the myriad of emotions expressed in those stunning blue eyes, because if he had missed the tell, Neal could have fooled him into thinking that he really was okay.

'Well… There was the interminable boredom plus the days and nights of being locked away, then there was the food which left a lot to be desired and the indignity of wearing an orange jumpsuit. I mean, come on Peter, jumpsuits went out in the eighties!' Neal said, a mocking smile on his face.

But Peter wasn't falling for the sarcasm or misdirection.

'Who hurt you, Neal?'

'Who said I was hurt? You're the one who's supposed to have seen my medical records and therefore you must know that I never set foot in the prison infirmary except when required to along with all the other convicts to have my shots. So if there's nothing in my chart, either you're accusing me or the prison doctors of falsifying hospital records…'

'Or maybe you didn't go to the hospital…'

'Or maybe there wasn't any reason for me to go! For goodness sake, Peter, can you please just give it a rest. I'm supposed to be meeting Michaels in a few minutes and I need some time to get my head back in the game as you put it plus I've still got to change my clothes thanks to Ruiz…'

But despite reminding Peter that they were both going to be late, Neal made no move to get out of the car, he just sat perfectly still looking straight ahead. And that was another tell in itself, because Neal was never completely still, he was too full of nervous energy.

'What happened to you in prison, Neal?' Peter continued to push.

Neal turned and started fumbling with the door handle now seemingly desperate to get out yet didn't seem to have enough strength in his fingers to operate the lever.

'Let me out, Peter. You've got no right to keep me here against my will…' Neal said, his voice wobbly and slightly higher pitched than normal.

'Okay, okay…I'll let you out, but the door's not locked you know…'

Peter leant across to flip open the door without thinking before realizing that the majority of his weight was now on Neal's lap and that he had effectively pinned the kid to his seat. Peter heard Neal gasp, felt the slender body beneath him jump and then hands were violently pushing at his chest and shoulders and during all the frantic struggling as he endeavoured to move back to his own seat as quickly as possible he heard one tortured, whispered word;

'_No…'_

Peter felt like he'd been sucker punched. He felt sick. He couldn't move, he couldn't think straight. It wasn't true…It couldn't be! Horrified, he looked over at Neal who was hunched forward in his seat, arms wrapped protectively around his chest, his breathing deep and slow, so rhythmical it was almost as if he was in a trance.

Peter knew things happened in jail, but Neal had been in a white collar prison. There weren't any murders, pedophiles or… rapists there. And Peter had checked the records; there had been no incidents or hospital admissions concerning one Neal Caffrey. The reports had stated that Neal responded particularly well to authority, he was polite and respectful to the guards and followed their orders at all times, he was a hard worker, social enough not to alienate anyone, but otherwise kept his head down and minded his own business. It seemed he had been a model prisoner apart from the escape three months before his four year sentence was up, of course.

So nothing could have happened to Neal in prison right? It was Maximum Security for God's sake. People who were sent there were flight risks. They had to be watched. There were guards and wardens and cameras and computer systems keeping an eye on everyone all of the time weren't there?

So maybe he was jumping to the wrong conclusion, after all Neal hadn't actually confirmed anything and if Neal had been the victim of some sort of…assault that had happened in prison, wouldn't he have shown symptoms of that trauma before today?

Oh Christ, but he had, hadn't he...? Two months ago when Peter had touched him…

And it suddenly became the most important thing in the world to Peter to actually hear Neal deny that anything had happened to him in prison, not just to reassure himself that Neal was okay but because he was the one that had caught Neal, arrested and cuffed him, testified at his trial and been there with him when he was sentenced to four years in Super-Max, which indirectly made him responsible if Neal had been hurt. Not to mention the fact that he had tried to have sex with Neal; tried to have sex with someone who might have had a very good reason for not wanting to be touched. Oh God…

'I need to know that nothing happened while you were in prison.' Peter said urgently.

'No you don't.' Neal whispered.

'I need you to tell me that nothing happened to you, that no one touched you against your will or hurt you while you were in prison.'

'You don't need to know that. No one needs to know that...'

'For God's sake, Neal, just tell me…'

'No, Peter, I won't, because it's none of your business! My past is my own and you've got no right to any of it. I don't want to think about it, I certainly don't want to talk about it, I just want to forget it ever happened and get on with my life.'

'Neal…'

'It's none of your business, Peter…' Neal reminded him, this time managing to open the car door.

He stepped out then turned around and bent down looking directly into Peter's eyes.

'And none of it's your fault either…' Neal said gently.

Peter just nodded mutely, wondering when he was going to stop being surprised at the way Neal always seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. He knew Neal was good with people; could derive information to get what he wanted by noting changes in body language, vocal inflection and facial expression, yet when it came to reading Peter, he was a master. Neal was so sensitive to his moods and feelings, so attuned to him, that sometimes it almost felt as if the kid could read his mind.

And despite Neal's reassurance that whatever had happened to him in prison, he was not responsible for, Peter still felt guilty because Neal had been hurt and as much as he felt that Neal needed to pay for his sins he had never under any circumstances intended for the price to be that high. He stared up at the young man who for so long had been such a thorn in his side and for the first time really took notice of each individual feature that made him seemingly irresistible to anyone who laid eyes on him.

Peter had spent years pouring over photos held by the FBI and videos pulled from security cameras looking at every aspect of Neal Caffrey that it was possible to view. He knew that Neal was attractive in a purely academic sense; that his face and figure conformed to what consisted of socially accepted norms for good looks, that would allow him to be classified as handsome and he even understood that Neal's appearance wouldn't be out of place inside the pages of one of El's glossy women's magazines, masquerading as a male model, but it was just that Peter had never gone after Neal for his looks, nor been swayed by them, nor needed to compete with them or indeed really noticed them much more than as an intellectual exercise and as a feature that was just another part and parcel of Neal. After all, Neal worked for him now; he didn't need to curry favour from Neal, didn't need to get Neal to notice him and besides, looks weren't the only thing that were important in a person and Peter had always found Neal's smarts were more of a turn-on than anything else.

But now as his feelings towards Neal had changed, as his relationship with Neal had changed, he realized that 'attractive' didn't come close to describing Neal and that his face and body were as close to perfection as it was possible for any mortal to be. In fact Neal Caffrey was quite simply the most beautiful person that Peter had ever seen.

He felt a fresh wave of guilt wash over him. How could he have been so naïve, so negligent in his duties not even to consider the effect that Neal's beautiful face with his pale, flawless skin, stunning blue eyes and thick, dark hair, combined with his slim, athletic body, his non-violent behaviour and his charming and charismatic personality would have on a male prison population who had been forcibly denied any outlet for their collective physical and sexual needs? How could he have ever thought that Neal with his exquisite beauty would be remotely safe in prison looking the way he did?

'But you invited me up to your apartment…' Peter said in disbelief.

'That's right, I did, Peter…'

'But… But why? If…You…You know…'

'Because I wanted you.' Neal told him softly.

'Why? Why would you want me?' Peter asked stupidly.

'Why wouldn't I want you, Peter? You're clever and good and kind… Not to mention devastatingly sexual…'

'But If I'd known, I would have…Well…'

'Would have what, Peter? Done things differently? Looked at me with pity? Treated me like a porcelain doll that might break at any second? Not come up at all because I was stupid enough to let myself get…'

'No!' Peter cried as he watched Neal shiver and then take in a deep shaky breath.

He didn't know what to say; he never knew how to handle too much emotion from anyone and Neal was right with most of his suggestions although not the last one.

'I don't think you're stupid, Neal, but you're right about doing things differently had I known because I wouldn't have walked out on you; I wouldn't have left you alone…'

And suddenly he was back in Neal's apartment watching him standing there; shaking, hyperventilating and desperately pleading with him:

'_Peter, please don't go. I'll try harder, I promise…'_

'Will you…Will you be okay?' He stuttered, voice choked with emotion.

'I'll be fine, Peter.'

'I meant for tonight.' He said gruffly, trying hard not to let Neal see the pity, the guilt and the fact that he was worried sick about him.

'I'll be at the hotel in half an hour, okay?'

'Okay…'

Peter didn't take his eyes off Neal until he let himself into June's mansion and shut the front door behind him.


	9. Logan

Trust and Protection: Discovery

Chapter eight: Logan

Peter banged on the door of the FBI surveillance van that was parked just round the corner from Wade's hotel. Cruz let him in and Jones immediately handed him a coffee. He vaguely nodded his thanks before settling down at his spot in front of a video and digital tape recorder. There was live footage playing on the screen yet he stared at it unseeingly, his body numb and unable to concentrate on anything other than Neal's revelation.

What sort of FBI agent was he that he hadn't worked out, hell, hadn't even suspected what was going on with Neal? All the signs had been there from the sexual triggers and the exaggerated escape reflex to the flashbacks, panic attacks and denial that anything was wrong. It was a classic PTSD presentation. A first year student at the academy could have pointed it out. How then could he, an expert in reading peoples' behaviours, not have noticed it?

Because it was easier to blame Neal, to accuse Neal of conning him, of playing with his feelings by trying to seduce him and then rejecting him, a little voice in his head piped up, making him feel even more guilty than he could have thought possible. Because it was simpler to imagine that he was the victim here and feel hurt and used and resentful and indignant at Neal's behaviour towards him rather than have to consider any other darker, more horrific possibilities of why Neal was acting in a way that was totally out of character for him.

Cruz and Jones' subdued conversation brought him back to the job at hand.

'So what have we got?' He asked the room.

'What we've got is a party in full swing but missing its guest of honor.' Ruiz said getting up from his seat in the corner. 'Someone I always knew was untrustworthy and shouldn't have ever been allowed on this case.'

Peter glared at Jones for not warning him that Ruiz was already here. Jones shrugged apologetically.

'We've got video feeds in all the downstairs areas and the audio signal's ready and waiting.' Cruz told him.

'We haven't got time to get anyone wired up now so where's your boy, Burke?'

And suddenly Peter was worried that Neal had decided that he couldn't complete the assignment and had run after all or maybe had had another flashback or full blown PTSD episode and was still at June's house shaking and unable to move, because he should have been here by now…

'Right, that's it. Get the GPS tracking data up, now!' Ruiz ordered.

'No wait…' Jones said looking at one of the screens. 'There's Neal, just coming into the lounge…'

'Switch on the wire signal, come on, come on!' Ruiz bellowed.

Peter watched with his heart in his mouth as Neal entered the room and slowly looked around before smiling and walking over to a man seated at the bar. There was a sudden crackle from the microphone after which Neal's voice came over loud and clear.

'_Logan…__ I was worrying that you might have changed your mind, that I would be stuck here all by myself and that I would have had to talk to people I didn't know…_' Neal said coming across as a little flustered.

Then he ran his hand through his hair making him appear slightly anxious before shyly raising his head and locking his eyes onto Michael's.

'_I've been looking forward to seeing you all day…'_ He whispered.

Peter let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. He had been so worried about Neal after the episode with Ruiz and then finding out all that stuff in the car that he hadn't believed Neal when he said that whatever else was going on in his life that he could be trusted to give his all to the job in hand and true to his word he had.

He looked amazing in his dark suit with not a hair out of place and he immediately put the awkward and nervous accountant at ease with his tone of voice and warm, familiar smile. He intimated that he too suffered from shyness making Michaels feel in a stronger more powerful position giving him extra motivation to provide help to Neal as he could now empathize with him. Peter smiled proudly to himself. Neal really was the consummate professional.

He kept the conversation to general topics while he ordered them both a drink. His body language showed him to be an extremely attentive partner listening as Michaels told him more about his job interrupting only to clarify a point or to sympathize with his long hours. His legs were crossed at the knee yet pointing towards Michaels, his left arm was leaning on the bar, jaw resting on his hand allowing his head to fall demurely to one side, yet still being able to lean forward at appropriate intervals to laugh at a joke and give him the famous Neal Caffrey dazzling white smile.

'When's he going to get the goods on Wade?' Ruiz asked impatiently.

'For God's sake, Ruiz!' Peter spat out angrily, 'He's been in the bar for 15 minutes; they're only on their first drink. Give him time to do his job. He'll get you what you need…'

'What I need, Burke, is some hard evidence to link Wade to at least six murders. What I don't need is your pretty boy trying to get his rocks off on my time and at my expense.'

'He's doing what you asked…'

'_Y__ou're a very attractive man, Logan.' _

'_I'm not… I've never been attractive.'_

'_Yes you are… Believe me you are.'_

'Funny… Because I thought I asked him to get me information from Michaels, not a fucking date!'

Peter ignored Ruiz and watched as Neal leaned forward and discretely touched Michaels' hand with his own.

'He's gay!' Peter said in surprise.

'Who, Caffrey?' Ruiz snorted. 'You've got to be kidding me? I've known that since the moment I first laid eyes on him!'

'No, Michaels…'

'_No one could ever love me.'_

'_Who told you that? Wade?'_

Peter watched as Michaels nodded.

'_It's not true, Loga__n. That's just a way for him to control you, to make himself feel powerful. He's hurt you hasn't he? Does he still hurt you?'_

'_He says he loves me.'_

'_Love shouldn't hurt, Loga__n. I can protect you.'_

Oh God! That's what Neal meant when he said that something bad had happened to Michaels. Wade's been abusing him all these years. Neal knew; he could sense it because it had happened to him. That's why this case was so difficult for him. He recognized something in Michaels that he identified with. He wasn't just trying to get the information from him, he was trying to help him as well.

'_He'll find me. He's told me that if I ever even think about running, he'll kill me.'_

'_I can protect you and all you need to do is tell them what you've seen and Wade will be gone.'_

'_I can't…'_

'_Trust me, Loga__n.'_

'Uh oh, we've got trouble,' Jones said indicating the screen. 'Wade's on his way over.'

'Are you sure we're getting this? Ruiz demanded. 'That the feed is on?'

'_Logan my dear won't you introduce me to __your acquaintance?'_

'_Vincent! Oh, um, yes of course. This is N-Nick...'_

'_Nicolas Halden. I'm a friend of Logan's.'_

'_You're very pretty…'_

Peter saw Neal swallow, but his smile didn't falter.

'_Thank you.' _He said modestly.

'_What do you do for a living, Mr. Halden?'_

'_I'm an artist. I paint…'_

'_What a coincidence. I happen to be an art lover. Why don't you come upstairs to my suite and you can see my collection…'_

'_Much as I would like to…'_

'_Oh Mr. Halden, I insist!'_

He wrapped his huge meaty hand around Neal's upper arm and squeezed. Neal winced.

'_Of course, if you put it that way, how could I refuse?'_

'_Charming as well as pretty. I know I'm going to enjoy your company tonight…'_

'Okay, this has gone far enough. Ruiz, we need to call off the operation and get the teams ready to go in.'

'Are you insane? Just think what we can get from Wade himself in his own office! This is better than Romano was going to be…'

'I don't care what you're going to get. I'm not prepared to risk Neal's safety. We don't have video upstairs, Ruiz. We don't know what's happening to him.'

'We've still got the wire and just in case you haven't remembered, Burke, this is my operation now and I say we continue for the time being.'

'Wade's a murderer, you know that and he's twice Neal's size. Neal won't stand a chance if he tries anything.'

'Sit down and shut up or get out, Burke.'


	10. Wade

Trust and Protection: Discovery

Chapter nine: Wade

Neal heard the door slam behind him as he stumbled into the room having been given a violent shove between the shoulder blades. He spun round to see Vincent Wade smiling nastily and pointing a gun in his direction. He immediately raised his hands above his head and felt his heart rate spike. Meeting Wade directly hadn't been part of the plan and he was a cold blooded killer who would have no hesitation in shooting him just for kicks. Would Peter try and get him out or would Ruiz veto it because he was running the show now?

'Vincent… What are you doing?' Logan Michaels asked in a high-pitched voice.

He sounded as confused and scared as Neal was feeling right at this moment.

'Shut up!' Wade ordered.

Logan recoiled as though he had been slapped.

'Who are you?' He asked Neal.

'I told you, my name is Nicolas Halden. I'm a friend of Logan's.'

Neal's voice was light and friendly, despite having a gun pointed at him.

'No you're not. Logan doesn't have friends and he especially doesn't have friends that look like you. Do you Logan?'

Wade's voice was also conversational; he could have been asking for the time of day yet Neal could hear the dismissive overtones of a despicable bully who used and abused everyone around him and disposed of those who refused to obey his orders; who had dominated and ridiculed Logan for years leaving him so scared, so meek, so down trodden that he was totally unable to help himself… Or maybe not so totally, Neal thought as Logan glanced over at him, a look of desire, longing and maybe even something akin to love in his eyes. And for a split second Neal thought he was going to stand up to Wade as a mutinous look of defiance flashed across his face and Neal was both immensely proud of him for daring to face his tormentor and instantaneously terrified of what Wade would do to him.

But Wade also noticed his hesitation and he repeated his question.

'Do you Logan?'

And this time, his voice was low and dangerous and full of what Neal was sure that Logan knew were promises of bodily harm should he fail to answer a second time.

And sure enough, the warning was heeded.

'No, Vincent…' Logan said quietly, his eyes lowered, his posture subdued and submissive once more.

'Come here!' Wade ordered.

Logan swallowed nervously, but obeyed immediately. Wade lifted his hand; Logan flinched as though he expected to be hit, however, Wade just settled his arm around Logan's shoulders, a gesture that could have been mistaken for one of friendship, although the words that followed were anything but.

'I saw you looking at him, Logan, you were practically drooling thinking about what you'd like to do with him. Did you imagine him sucking your cock or did you want to fuck him?'

'No! Nothing like that!' Logan cried out, his face turning pink.

'No? Oh that's right, I forgot. You can't get it up can you? You're not even a real man. So what were you fantasizing about then? You sucking him off or did your pathetic twisted little brain think that he would dirty himself to fuck you?'

Wade laughed cruelly and shook his head indicating just how pitiful he deemed Logan to be.

Neal watched with pity as Logan closed his eyes in shame and humiliation and the fear he felt for his own safety was gone replaced by a deep hatred for the men who had made Logan and himself both physically and emotionally impotent.

'Of course he wouldn't. Look at him: pretty, talented, charming, well-mannered, spirited… So the only reason that someone that looked like him would want to be friends with someone that looked like you would be if they wanted to get to me.'

Wade turned back to Neal.

'So, I'll ask the question again. Who are you?'

'Look, I'm sorry if there's been a misunderstanding. I just enjoyed talking to Logan. I didn't realize that he was involved with anyone otherwise I wouldn't have…

'Shut up and take your shirt off.'

'What?'

Neal's eyes widened.

'I want to see that you're not packing or wearing a wire.'

'Your men searched everyone as we came into the hotel. You know I'm not carrying and why would I be wearing a wire?' He said, allowing himself to become a little indignant, yet still trying to keep his composure and wits about him while remaining in character as a confused and now scared young artist.

'I don't know and I don't care but I will find out if you're wearing one. You've got thirty seconds to show me your chest, back and front or Logan won't be talking to you or anyone else for that matter.'

Wade moved his gun from where it was pointing at Neal and shoved the blunt end of it under Logan's chin.

Neal watched in horror as Logan's eyes widened to the dimension of saucers and all the color drained from his face.

'This isn't necessary. I'm not wearing a wire…' He said frantically.

'So prove it. Strip!'

'Okay, but don't hurt Logan…'

'That's your call. You've got…'

Wade consulted his watch.

'20 seconds left…'

Neal didn't have any doubt that Wade would shoot Logan if he didn't comply with his order to remove his clothes. He just hoped that Wachowski had done his job properly otherwise it wouldn't just be Logan that ended up dead. And he didn't want to die tonight, well, strictly speaking he didn't want to die at all, but he especially didn't want to die any time soon because he needed to sort things out with Peter; he had unfinished business with Peter…

He ripped off his suit jacket, then popped the buttons on his vest and slipped out it. Next he undid his cuff-links, then loosened his tie just enough to undo the top three buttons of his shirt before pulling both shirt and tie together up and over his head, shrugging his arms out of the sleeves at the same time, leaving him naked from the waist up.

'Bravo…' Wade smiled lasciviously at him. 'But I didn't have any doubt that you could do it. You look like the sort of person that's had plenty of practice getting in and out of his clothes quickly.'

He re-focused the gun on Neal then grabbed the shirt from him and felt under the collar.

'Arms out and turn around slowly…'

Neal did as he was told.

'What an asshole!' Cruz said on hearing Wade ridicule and humiliate Logan.

'That doesn't begin to describe him.' Jones replied.

'For once I agree with you kids; Vincent Wade is a fucking evil, perverted and depraved son-of-a-bitch.' Ruiz said ominously.

'Wade's suspicious. He's making Neal take his shirt off. Are you sure he not going to notice the wire?' Peter asked anxiously.

'Nah! Wachowski may be a loser when it comes to women, but he's fucking good at his job. That wire's nothing more than a thin white line. Wade will just think Caffrey's got a scar on the side of his chest. In fact it's so fine, he might not notice it at all.'

'What did he mean when he said to Neal 'or Logan won't be talking to you or anyone else.' Do you think he's got a gun in there?' Peter said frowning.

'Highly likely.' Ruiz replied. 'He doesn't usually travel far without one.'

'But Neal's not armed…'

'I should hope not, he's a convict for God's sake!'

'Meeting Wade wasn't part of the plan, Ruiz. We've got to get Neal out of there, his life could be at risk…'

'Jesus, Burke, one minute you're telling me to let Caffrey do his job and the next you're asking me to pull him out. Make up your mind, why don't you. Besides, if Wade does have a gun in there, it's pointing at Michaels so your boy's safe…'

'That's your definition of safe? That he shoots Michaels first?' Peter asked incredulously.

'What is with you, Burke? I've never seen you so protective of anyone before. Or could it be that you're sweet on Caffrey?'

'I'm protective of anyone on my team who is in a dangerous situation. But Neal isn't an agent, Ruiz, he's an unarmed, untrained consultant. He didn't choose this job and he certainly didn't choose this assignment. You're responsible for sending him in there tonight which means you're responsible for his safety and at present, he is not safe…'

'_See? No wire. So I'll just put my shirt back on…'_

'_No, leave it off. You're much…prettier this way…'_

'What a creep!' Cruz said.

'What a pervert!' Ruiz replied.

'Ruiz…' Peter warned.

'_Um, okay… You mentioned that you were an art lover.'_

'_Oh yes, so I did. __Logan! Let's take Nick into the office and show him some art shall we?'_

'Keep your hair on Burke, Caffrey's got it under control and the office is where Romano said Wade kept all his stuff.'

Ruiz was suddenly very excited.

A few seconds later a soft gasp came through the wire.

'_What are you doing?'_

Peter had been hunched over his work-station listening intently to the dialogue coming through the wire but on hearing Neal's voice he sat up suddenly.

'Everything okay, Boss?' Jones asked perceptively.

'Something's wrong up there.'

'What are you talking about, Burke? If this is just another excuse to try and get me to call off this operation…'

'No! I mean it. Something's wrong with Neal. His voice has changed. He's not in control now…'

'_I'm __an art-lover; a man who appreciates the finer things in life and you, Mr. Halden happen to be the most exquisitely beautiful thing I have ever seen. Look at you standing there half naked, cocky, so sure of your moral superiority…'_

'No, no, no!' Peter slammed his hand down desk. 'It's time, Ruiz. Jones… The GPS data… What room is he in?'

'Sit down, Burke. Wade hasn't done anything yet. If we burst in now, we'll have nothing and Wade will walk again…'

'We'll have Neal…'

'_I know your type; good-looking, clever, charming and smooth. You think you're so much better than everyone else; you cruise through life __conning people into getting whatever you want just by smiling at them… You think you can just waltz into my hotel and seduce my accountant with idle promises of your body and that pretty mouth?'_

'_Stop it! Get__ off me!'_

There was the sound of hands being slapped away then a sickening crunch like a fist had connected with bone followed by muffled cry and a heavy thump which sounded as though it could have been a body landing on the floor and then there was a scuffling noise as though that body was trying to get away…

'Okay that's it. Cruz I want you to go to the front desk and get me a key to Wade's rooms but whatever you do don't let anyone tip Wade off; he's got a gun up there.'

'_Oh no you don't, you little cock-sucker… And there's no point in looking to Logan for help because he's a pathetic, spineless__, loser who cries every time he takes it up the ass…'_

'_And if he is, that's only because you made him that way.'_

'Ruiz, I don't give a shit about what you want any more. If you don't have the teams in position and ready to go in 30 seconds, I'll be on the phone to Hughes and before you can say 'Peter Burke fucked me over' White Collar will be back in charge of this operation and you'll be the laughing stock of the FBI. And you'd also better pray that Caffrey's okay or else you'll have me to deal with personally as well…'

'_Oh, did you hear that, Logan? The pretty boy's standing up for you; all that fire and spunk and defiance flashing in those beautiful blue eyes. I'm getting hard from just imaging what that gorgeous mouth is going to be doing for me in a few minutes…'_

There was another hard slap followed by a yelp that Peter would recognize anywhere as Neal's.

'Jones! Give me an earwig for the wire and a microphone so I can stay in contact with you. I'm going in…'

'Stop! Don't touch me…' Neal cried as his arm was grabbed and he was hauled up from the floor and pushed face down over wade's desk.

He scrabbled with his hands trying to find something he could use as a weapon; a pen, a paper weight, yet there was nothing. He tried to find some purchase with his feet, but then Wade was kicking his ankles apart causing his belly to flop down on the desk and then there was something heavy leaning on his back and putrid breath hissing in his ear…

'Not so spirited now are you? Not so confident when you're about to have a real man's cock up your ass, you little shit…'

And then all Neal's frantic struggling ceased as he felt the blunt muzzle of Wade's gun being pressed into the back of his skull.

'Vincent, stop, please. Don't… don't do this.'

'Logan? What the fuck?'

'I won't let you h-hurt anyone else…'

'Logan, put the gun down. We both know you won't use it.'

'Let him go…'

'Put the gun down, Logan, you fucking traitor!' Wade shouted furiously before bringing his own gun around from where it had been aiming at Neal to shoot Logan in the chest.

Neal gasped in horror. Wade had just shot Logan which meant that he was going to be next, yet Wade was putting the gun down and then a hand was reaching around his waist and undoing his pants…

'No!'

And then Neal was struggling once more, this time with a vengeance because he couldn't go through that again, couldn't face having to think about…And then he heard his zipper being pulled down and then he felt two hands grabbing at the waistband of his pants and underwear… He pushed away from the desk trying to let his body slide downwards, trying to get away from the probing fingers, but then one of the hands was in his hair pulling him up to rest against a wide, firm chest and this position was even worse because now Wade's cock was pressing up into his ass and Wade's hand was inside his shorts and had grabbed his balls and was squeezing so hard that any minute he was going to be sick…

And then he felt his pants being pushed down over his hips and thighs, yet he couldn't do a thing to stop it because the deep visceral pain in his balls was still there, immobilizing him… Then rough fingers were parting his butt cheeks and something hard and blunt was poking at him and trying to push into him and he could feel the hysteria overtaking him; feel himself panting and whimpering and knew he was losing control…

'Oh yeah…' Wade groaned into his ear. 'You want it, so bad… Take it, you fucking slut…'

And then he was back in prison with filthy, demeaning words being hissed into his ear, the noise of cruel laughter, jeering at his submissive position, mocking his defencelessness, taking advantage of his vulnerability; and he remembered the agony of the first stab of penetration, his muscles unable to accommodate in time, stretched beyond their limit, the pain when he tore, the obscene sound of skin wetly slapping against his own, the continued stretch and burn and ache deep in his pelvis as something long and hard was repeatedly rammed up inside him.

He could remember the feel of the vice like grip of calloused fingers that dug into his hips that left bruises for weeks afterwards, the stench of foul breath, making him gag as it was exhaled in warm gusts across his face with each thrust into him, the disgusting sensation of semen being pumped deep into his body and the helpless and horrible feeling of it leaking out of him at the end, dribbling down the inside of his thighs, warm and thick and pink tinged because it was mixed with his blood…

And then suddenly there was shouting and he couldn't make out what was being said but the hand was gone in his hair and his balls didn't feel like they were on fire any more yet he couldn't get the sensation out of his head that he was still being touched, still being violated…And he could hear someone screaming and he knew it must be him yet he didn't know how he could scream if he couldn't breathe because there was a huge weight sitting on top of his chest and it felt as though his lungs were going to burst and his fingers were tingling and his vision was graying at the edges and he knew he was going to pass out…

But then in the distance there was a voice calling his name. It was quiet at first like it was coming from a long way away, or maybe he was under water because it sounded so distorted and strange yet he recognized it as belonging to Peter. But he didn't want Peter to see him like this; naked and helpless; because how could anyone want him after seeing what had been done to him, how disgusting, dirty and soiled he was; how weak he was to just lie there and let someone use him, to let someone take him…

'Neal… Can you hear me?'

But if Peter was here that meant he was safe. He started to shake.

'Peter… Help me…'

He tried to stand, to cover himself, to make himself look decent, normal, someone that Peter wouldn't be ashamed of and then felt himself falling.


	11. Again Peter

Trust and Protection: Discovery

A/N: I've re-written this chapter adding in a whole new argument between Peter and Neal about his trip to the hospital. It has been made clear to me by many readers that Peter has a duty of care to Neal whether he wants it or not and as such, I had to make Peter take Neal to the hospital despite Neal's impressive efforts at persuading him otherwise.

This obviously has ramifications for the sequel so I'm just off to rewrite a few chapters…

Thanks for reading.

Chapter ten: Again Peter

Peter burst into Wade's office followed by Cruz screaming at Wade to put his hands on his head, her gun out and pointing directly at him. A team of FBI agents swarmed past him weapons also drawn and there was a huge puddle of blood surrounding Michaels' body on the floor, but Peter didn't have time to worry whether the accountant was dead because despite Cruz yelling and waving her gun around, Wade was still leaning over Neal, still holding his hips, still rutting.

'Get away from him.' Peter shouted frantically.

And then Ruiz was there pulling Wade off and forcing him to the floor and Cruz was cuffing his hands behind his back and someone was calling for a medical team as he rushed over to Neal who was lying face down over Wade's desk, more or less naked, his pants and underwear having been pushed down around his thighs. Oh Christ…

'Someone get me a blanket…' He yelled to the room.

And then Jones was coming over to him, followed by a medic with a first aid kit.

'Do you need some help, Sir?'

'No, just something to cover him with.' He snapped.

'I'm on it, Boss.' Jones said.

'Thanks…'

Peter smiled tightly before stepping up to the desk.

'Neal…Can you hear me?' He asked, reaching forward to shake his shoulder before thinking better of it as Neal pushed himself up and away from the desk, grabbing at his underwear with shaky hands before his legs gave way and he slumped to the ground.

The medic started forward only to be pulled back by Peter's hand gripping his arm.

'Don't touch him!' He shouted.

'Sir, I should take a look at him.'

'No! Do not approach him. He's a dangerous criminal under my jurisdiction.'

'But Sir, he could have serious injuries…'

'I don't care what his injuries are. You are not to touch him.' Peter said angrily before turning his attention back to Neal.

'Neal, are you okay?'

Peter dropped down to the floor to sit in front of him but recognized that Neal was in no fit state to answer him. Apart from the fact that he looked awful with his left cheek swollen and already sporting a large bruise from where Wade must have slugged him across the face, he couldn't speak because his mouth was literally hanging open just trying to get enough air into his lungs. Peter realized that Neal was in the middle of a full-blown panic attack; his normally beautiful blue eyes were black from pupils dilated by adrenaline induced fear; there was sweat on his upper lip and he had turned a sickly ashen color. He was shaking and panting with the effort of just trying to breathe. Peter could see his eyelids beginning to flutter and knew that if he didn't do something soon, Neal would pass out.

'Sir, he really doesn't look well…' The medic tried again.

Peter ignored him.

'Where's that god-damned blanket I asked for?' He shouted.

'Here you go, Boss.'

'Thanks, Jones.' Peter said gratefully, draping the soft navy fleece over Neal's shoulders being careful not to touch him.

'Neal, look at me. It's Peter Burke. I want you to put your hand on my chest. Can you do that for me? Neal? Come on Neal, stay with me. Give me your hand…'

'P-Pete-Peter…I-I c-can't b-breathe…'

'I know. You're having a panic attack. You need to slow your breathing down. Neal, I'm going to take your hand. Trust me okay?'

Peter slowly reached out, his palm facing upwards showing Neal that he wasn't going to be touched without his permission and gently took Neal's hand in his then placed it flat on his chest covering it with his own.

'Feel my breathing Neal. Breathe with me. Slow your breathing down to match mine.'

He deliberately took long and slow breaths, nodding encouragingly at him, all the while rubbing his thumb over soothingly over the back of Neal's hand.

'Attaboy Neal, you're doing fine, everything's going to be alright, now.'

And Peter continued to breathe for Neal, continued to hold his shaky hand tightly against his chest as Neal slowly relaxed, getting himself back under control. But then his eyes widened and his body stiffened causing Peter to notice that the color had once again drained from his face but that this time his skin had taken on a greenish hue.

'Okay, let's get you to the bathroom…' Peter said helping Neal to stand up, knowing from prior experience that he had reached the vomiting stage in his PTSD.

Peter heard Neal begin his protracted puking routine and knew that he wouldn't be finished until at least 15 minutes had gone by. Now was the time to check in with Ruiz and ask for an update.

'What happened?' He asked.

'Wade's shouting for his lawyer but even if I don't get anything else I've arrested him on charges of attempted murder and rape.'

'Good! How's Michaels?'

'Busted shoulder, collapsed lung, going for immediate surgery. Should be alright in the long run, physically at least. What Caffrey? I heard him barfing in the can…'

'I don't know until the medics take a look at him. I'm going to need some blood work and DNA samples from Wade.'

'You got it.'

'And Ruiz, I know you're going to need a statement from Neal about what happened, but I don't think he's up to it tonight. I'm going to take him home and I'll make sure he's in your office on Monday morning.'

'Sure. And for what it's worth Burke, I hope he's going to be okay.'

'Yeah, me too.'

Peter took a look around at the agents going painstakingly going through Wade's files and removing computer systems for evidence before Jones came up to him.

'How's Neal?'

'Shaken up pretty bad but we won't know until he's been checked out at the hospital. Jones, I need you to do me a favour… I need you to give me a few minutes to get him away from here without everyone staring, you know…'

'Consider it done, just tell me when.'

* * *

'Neal, it's Peter, can I come in?'

He heard the bathroom door being unlocked and then opened. He entered the room but didn't miss the fact that Neal took a couple of steps back from him or that he clasped the ends of the blanket tightly in front of him, wearing it like a shield. Peter's heart sank. This was worse than the last two times he had witnessed; it was clear that Neal hadn't got it together yet; at some point during his ordeal he had been crying as evidenced by the dried tear tracks on his face, his normally immaculate hair was a mess and flopping forward into his eyes and his body had started those awful shakes again.

God! This was so difficult. What was he supposed to say to comfort someone who had been assaulted and violated in the most horrific of ways? There was a reason why he had chosen White Collar crimes, yet he had promised Neal that if he had known, then he would have done things differently; he wouldn't have left him alone and this time he meant to keep that promise despite how awkward he was feeling right now.

'Are you okay? I mean, have you finished… In here?'

'Yeah…' Neal answered his voice strangely hoarse.

'Well, it's time to get going then.'

'Like this?' Neal said shakily, 'I'll catch my death, not to mention be arrested for indecent exposure!'

Peter smiled in relief despite the situation. At least Neal was still able to joke with him.

'I'll get you another blanket if you're cold and you know I'd never let anyone else arrest you; you're my convict to do with as I see fit and right now, I want to get as far away from this place as possible and not let you out of my sight until we're at the hospital.'

'Hospital?'

'You need to get checked out, Neal…'

Peter didn't need to put it any more bluntly.

'I don't, I'm fine.'

'Neal…' Peter warned.

'I don't, Peter, I don't need to go.' Neal said urgently. 'Wade didn't… didn't manage to…'

He swallowed and bit his lip.

'Well that's good, Neal, in fact that's great news but…'

'I don't want to go, Peter. They'd need to examine me. I couldn't face it…I couldn't face anyone touching me…'

Guilt filled his mind as Peter remembered two months back when he had done exactly that.

'Please, Peter…'

And there was that wide-eyed desperation again which Peter now knew from experience meant that Neal's anxiety levels were starting to spiral out of control.

'Your face… It looks awful.' He said softly, changing the subject somewhat and trying to diffuse the situation by allowing Neal time to get himself back together.

'How does it feel?'

'Swollen and sore.' Neal replied pressing his fingers to the large, ugly bruise on his cheek.

'Well, we need to get it looked at. Maybe it's broken...' Peter admonished him gently.

'No, it isn't.'

'How do you know? You're not a doctor…'

'I know what a broken bone feels like.' Neal said quietly.

'Jesus, Neal…' Peter whispered, frowning and wondering just how many fractures Neal had had in his life that he was able to accurately determine by feel whether he had a broken bone or not and also how he'd managed to get them because it required a tremendous amount of force to crack a bone let alone break one in a fit, muscular young man like Neal…

'Look…' He said sighing. 'I know it's going to be difficult, but you have to go to the hospital, firstly to make sure that you're okay and secondly to... well, get the evidence we'll need to prosecute Wade for what he did to you.'

'I told you, he didn't manage to... The hospital wouldn't find anything so there's no point in me going.'

'Even if that were true and I hope to God it is, Neal, I saw what he did do to you. There could still be medical evidence that would be enough to convict him.'

'Then I don't want to press charges.'

'What? Of course you have to press charges; he assaulted you, both physically and sexually!'

'No.'

'If you don't, then he might walk…'

'You've got all of his documents and computer files and you'll also have the transcripts of the wire recordings as evidence as to what went down today, besides I wouldn't be a credible witness. I'm a convicted criminal, Peter. No jury would believe a word I said, so I'm not going to take the risk and testify.'

'And that's all the more reason why we need to get you to the hospital and get the DNA evidence that will prove his guilt and make sure he is put away for good.'

'And I'm telling you I don't want to go.'

'I'm sorry, Neal, but you're going to have to come with me.'

'Why? I told you! I'm not going to press charges. I'm not going…'

'Don't make me cuff you…' Peter warned him.

'You'd do that to me?' Neal said incredulously, his eyes widening and his face going pale at Peter's threat. 'I thought you said you were going to protect me! I thought you were my friend…'

'I am your friend, Neal and that's why I'm insisting that you let me take you to the hospital so I can reassure myself that you really are okay.'

'Honestly Peter, I'm fine!'

'So we'll be in and out in five minutes and then I'll take you home.'

'Please Peter, I can't. I just can't face anyone touching me…'

'I know…' Peter said sincerely, 'And believe me, if I thought there was another way…'

'There is! What about my rights? You can't force me to go!'

'Again, I'm sorry, Neal, but you're a felon who's on parole and you're also a CI who works for the Bureau. You don't have any rights in this matter. You have to go to hospital; the FBI requires it! But more importantly you need to go for your own physical well-being.'

'I don't…'

'This discussion is over, Neal; you're going to the hospital.'

'But…'

'You don't have a choice.'

Peter noticed Neal's wide eyed stare accompanied by his trembling hands and rapid, shallow breathing pattern. It was time to wrap this up before the kid lost it completely.

'I'll get you another blanket on the way out…'

'What if I promise to…'

'No, Neal…' Peter said gently. 'Come on, it's time. Let's go.'

* * *

The first thing that Neal wanted when he got home was a shower. Peter was waiting anxiously when he came out of the bathroom nearly an hour later in his pyjamas and a robe belted tightly around him. His hair was once again immaculate.

'My face…' He said by way of an opening.

'Not up to your usual beauty regime, I'll grant you…' Peter said wryly.

Neal smiled gratefully at the humorous attempt to try and diffuse the uncomfortable situation between them due to the huge metaphorical elephant in the room that neither of them seemed to want to make the first move to discuss.

'But really, it's not so terrible…It makes you look like a tough guy with a kind of rakish, bad boy charm… Not that you need any more of that of course! He added sarcastically.

Neal looked genuinely pleased for a moment before he frowned and then bit his lip, obviously trying to think of a way to verbalize something that was proving difficult for him.

'Thanks Peter, for… You know, the hospital… For taking me…'

'Hey! Don't mention it, Buddy!'

'It's just that…Well, I don't really remember much after we got out of the car, except for feeling a little… anxious and I was wondering whether I was… I mean, did everything go okay?' Neal said, noticeably not looking at Peter.

'It went fine, Neal.' Peter reassured him.

Which was true… After he had been sedated that was! The fact that he'd disintegrated into a gibbering wreck in the waiting room and then got so scared when the nurse called his name that he actually turned tail and ran was neither here nor there. Peter also didn't feel that Neal would benefit from knowing that he had been being bodily tackled to the ground by two massive security guards who then needed to literally sit on him so that an orderly could get near enough to inject him in the backside with a sedative, the amount of which that would have knocked out a horse…

In less than two minutes, the drug had begun to take effect and Neal had calmed down enough to stop fighting and screaming and after five, he was practically comatose. Peter had helped get him onto a gurney and into a room and then stayed with him for both the physical examination of his head and face and for the more invasive, forensic exam.

After Neal had gone ballistic in the Emergency Room, he had given the medical staff a quick run-down of what he believed had happened to him during the course of an under-cover FBI operation. He had then identified himself as Neal's handler when it became obvious that Neal was not just another law enforcement officer when the staff removed his pants and found the tracking anklet that Peter had been ordered to put back on him before they made the trip to the hospital. The doctor had then asked him whether he wanted to stay while the forensic exam was being performed.

Peter had nodded yes, because he wanted to know what had happened to Neal as the doctor was seeing it not just read about it later in a report that tended to be written in medical speak that occasionally contained words that he didn't quite understand. He also wanted to know immediately that Neal was going to be okay.

It wasn't as though he had actually thought that the doctor was giving him permission to watch the exam being done but as soon as he saw the nursing staff lift Neal's limp and unresisting legs up into stirrups and then start to cut off his underwear, the gravity of what the doctor was about to do to Neal and by inference what therefore had happened to him hit home.

So he moved away from the sterile drapes covering Neal's slim and abnormally still form to go and stand up by his head where he tried to ignore the queasy feeling in his stomach brought on by the antiseptic smell of the room and its instruments and the sight and sound of Neal twitching and whimpering as though he could somehow comprehend what was being done to him despite being so deeply sedated he was almost unconscious.

He spent the time trying to calm both Neal and himself by gently running his fingers through Neal's hair; pushing the soft dark strands off his face and then stroking down and over the back of his head before repeating the whole procedure once more. And the twitching and whimpering became less noticeable and the initial fast and furious beeps of the saturation and heart rate monitor gradually slowed as his body relaxed until eventually he sighed and his breathing pattern evened out into that of regular, albeit chemically induced, sleep.

Finally the exam was finished and Neal's legs were lowered back down onto the bed and his body covered with a blanket. Neal had been right when he said that Wade hadn't managed to penetrate him, but the doctor had found enough forensic evidence that would incriminate him on a charge of rape. He also told Peter that Neal was likely to be very sore for a few days as the area around his perineum was bruised and swollen.

'So I was… Okay?' Neal said softly.

And the overly casual way with which he asked along with the pathetically hopeful look in his eyes plus the devastating vulnerability that was practically radiating from him made Peter almost want to cry with the knowledge of what Neal was really asking him.

'Yeah, you're okay.' He said brusquely, swallowing convulsively a few times before clearing his throat. '

Neal smiled thankfully.

'And you were right; it wasn't broken…' Peter told him, bringing them right back to the elephant in the room.

Neal's smile faltered and he hovered for a moment, looking at Peter before nervously flicking his gaze away.

'I'm sorry you had to… to witness that…' Neal said hunching his shoulders and pulling the lapels of his robe closer together.

'It's okay…'

'No, it's not! I didn't want you to see me like that; I didn't want you to see…'

'Neal, it's okay…'

'You shouldn't have had to have seen that…because you'll think that I… that I'm… weak and you won't… want me anymore…'

'No, Neal…'

Peter stood up and walked over to Neal but made sure to stop a few feet in front of him.

'Although it is true that I wish to God it hadn't happened to you but not because now I think you're weak or tainted somehow, but because he forced you and hurt you. You couldn't control what he did to you; it's not your fault and it certainly doesn't make me think any less of you.'

'Did everyone hear me through the wire?' He asked quietly.

'That was kind of the point, Neal.'

'And everyone must have seen me lying spread out over Wade's desk, naked with him trying to…So everyone knows what happened to me? Cruz and Jones and Ruiz and all those FBI agents that came in the room, they all saw me crying and shaking and having a panic attack? They all know…They all think…'

'They all know that you stood up to a wanted murderer who was a lot bigger and stronger than you and that you kept your cool when you had a loaded gun pointed at your head and that you were physically assaulted yet you coped despite witnessing an attempted murder of a friend of yours.'

'Is Logan…?'

'Ruiz says he's going to be fine and thanks to you he's going to give us everything on Wade. Because of you he finally stood up to Wade. You done good today, kid, and for what it's worth, I'm proud of you.'

Neal looked surprised then inordinately pleased at the praise.

'It's worth something…' He said smiling shyly before wincing and touching his cheek. 'Although I might need a couple of weeks off work, I mean I couldn't con anyone into thinking I'm pretty looking like this…'

'If you had a hundred bruises, you'd still be prettier than almost every other person on the planet…' Peter replied immediately without thinking.

There was silence as Neal looked at him, gratitude in his eyes.

'I knew you'd come…' He said quietly. 'I knew you were watching out for me, that you'd save me again.'

'You can count on it, always. I'm just sorry, I couldn't get there sooner, that you had to go through… all that.'

'I don't want _that_ to change anything between us.'

'I understand, but how can it not, Neal?' Peter asked softly.

'I don't want you to treat me any differently…' Neal said firmly, not wanting to think about Peter's last question.

'And in work, I won't. But when we're alone, together up here, I'm going to have to treat you differently. I can't just expect you to…'

'Yes you can.' Neal told him quickly. 'Just give me a few days…'

'No, Neal. I don't want a repeat of the last two times we were together. I like you too much to hurt you again…'

'So, what…What are you saying, Peter?' Neal asked in a small voice.

'I'm trying to tell you that we're going to need to take it slow.'

'Slow?' Neal repeated as though he didn't understand the meaning of the word.

'Yeah…We take it at your pace, Neal. You tell me what you want and we only do what you're happy with.'

'You mean, you still want me? After knowing… After seeing…' Neal asked in a high-pitched voice.

'I never stopped wanting you Neal, I just thought that you didn't want me.'

'And I can tell you what to do?'

'When we're in the bedroom, yes.' Peter clarified, his tone of voice dry.

It wouldn't do after all to let Neal think that he was going to be in charge at work otherwise who knew what he would get up to?

'You mean sexually?' Neal further clarified.

'Yes.'

Neal swallowed, his eyes wide.

'And…And what if I can't ever…'

And then Peter's eyes widened as if just realizing that talking about sex now, or maybe even just thinking about sex at this point in time was too much for Neal, if indeed he actually wanted a relationship with Peter at all.

'Oh God, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to suggest that you had to, you know, with me at all, if you didn't want to…'

'I do… I do want to with you, Peter.'

'Well then, if you really couldn't ever, then we wouldn't do it. It would be as simple as that, but you told me before that there were some things you liked…'

'I liked you kissing me…'

'Well, maybe we could start off with that.'

'And if I didn't want to… If I needed you to stop…'

'Then I would stop. Immediately. You never have to worry about that. You would be in charge, Neal. You would be calling the shots.'

'And what if I didn't want anything…'

'Then we wouldn't do anything.'

'But then you'd leave.'

'Of course I wouldn't. I told you that before. I'm not going to leave you alone again, unless, you want your space and then you can tell me to go.'

'But then what would get out of it?'

'Get out of what? I don't understand.'

'If you're not getting sex, why would you want to stay? Here? With…Me?'

'I might not be getting sex but I'd still be getting you, Neal. I'd be getting your wit and your humor, your loyalty and courage, your joy and love of life, not to mention that big old brain of yours, with that razor-sharp mind and genius IQ… I'd be getting your smarts, Neal and you know how I love clever… And I'd also get to look at you… To see your beautiful face and to be the recipient of one of those dazzling Caffrey smiles knowing that this time it was just for me. Even if we never have sex again, I still want you, Neal and nothing that's happened to you in your past is going to change that.'

Peter could see the hope and vulnerability radiating from those vivid blue eyes and that youthful, perfect body as Neal just stared at him as though nobody had ever said anything like that to him before, as though nobody had thought he was any more than pretty face and someone who could lie, cheat and con his way through life. There was no cocky smile or condescending smirk on his face now. This was Neal laid bare, trying to believe all that Peter had said about him, trying to believe that he was worthy of Peter's attention and affection and all of those things made Peter feel that Neal needed someone to look after him, to care for him, to protect him and to love him.

And Peter so desperately wanted to reach out and put his arms around the poor kid, pull him into a hug, kiss him and tell him everything was going to be okay, yet he knew he couldn't hold him, couldn't make a move, couldn't do anything that would undermine the fragile trust Neal now had in him, the small amount of self-confidence he had over being in control of access to his body, that he would only be touched with his express permission.

'So I suppose now that you want me to tell you what happened to me in prison?' Neal said awkwardly, suddenly finding the material of his robe fascinating.

'No, Neal, I don't.' Peter said gently.

'You did yesterday! Yesterday you were desperate for me to tell you.'

'Yesterday, I'd just found out that my partner had endured a horrific experience at a prison that I was responsible for sending him to and I wasn't able to think of…well, of anything else at all. Look, Neal… You never have to tell me what happened, ever, if you don't want to. I'm not going to hold it over your head or demand to know as a condition of your parole or our friendship. You were right, when you said that your past is none of my business. However, if you do want to talk, either now or tomorrow or next week or next year, then I will be here for you, in whatever way you need me to be.'

'But you hate talking and all that touchy feely stuff…'

'Yeah, but I made you a promise that I would protect you, that I would be there for you and I walked away from you before because I didn't understand, but now that I do, I'm not going to break my promise again. Whatever you need, Neal, whenever you need it, I'll be there for you.'

And once again Neal looked momentarily surprised and then extraordinarily pleased at Peter's promise as though it was something he had desperately hoped for but had never dared to expect.

'Peter, I really want you to hold me so badly at the moment but I don't want you to get upset if I can't respond in a normal way and I don't want to get another flashback if you touch me…'

'Would it be alright if I just stood here and you came and put your arms around me, that way you'd be the one in control of the touching?

There was a pause as Neal considered the suggestion.

'Yeah, I think that might work.'

'Well, then, whatever you need, we'll just take it slow and one step at a time.' Peter said matter-of-factly.

Peter stood still, arms by his sides as Neal hesitantly reached up and put his hands on his shoulders. Peter didn't move. He wanted to make it very clear to Neal that when he'd said that he was just going to stand there, that was exactly what he meant. He wanted Neal to know that he was in charge of how much body contact there was going to be between them.

And after a while, Neal did seem to understand that Peter had meant what he'd said as he stepped closer into Peter's personal space and wrapped his arms around him. Again Peter didn't move and was rewarded when a few seconds later he felt Neal's body relax and then heard him sigh as Neal's head dropped down to rest on his shoulder.

Peter closed his eyes, savouring the warm and familiar feeling of the slender body pressed against his before he inhaled deeply catching the wonderful and unique scent of Neal. He didn't know if things would ever progress to the stage where Neal had recovered enough emotionally that he felt comfortable in initiating and participating in a physical relationship with him, but he knew that he would do his utmost to help Neal all he could. He wasn't going to leave him alone again.

'It's going to be alright…' He whispered into soft, dark hair. 'You're going to get better. It'll take time and you'll need to trust me, but we can fix this together, Neal.'

Neal sighed, wriggling closer and tightened his arms around Peter.

End of part one – Trust and Protection: Discovery

Part two – Trust and Protection: Recovery, coming in the near future.

Sneak peak of excerpts from the first four chapters already up...


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